


After ALL

by ElysiaTod



Category: Shameless - Fandom, gallavich - Fandom, ian gallagherxmickey milkovich, ianxmickey - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Daddy!Mickey, Gallavich, Illness, Love, M/M, Male on Male, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of past abuse, Multi, No one dies dw, No soilers tho, Other, Post Season 7, Rape trauma, Shameless, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags might change, child abuse trauma, child illness, ian is a sad puppy, im here to give it to them, kinda slow burn?, least no one important so far, possible minor season 8 hints, rape mention, terminal illness, the milkoviches deserved better, the usual sex will come.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 66,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElysiaTod/pseuds/ElysiaTod
Summary: Post Season 7Mandy Milkovich runs into the brother she thought was dead while on a work trip in Loreto, Mexico.When she returns home things go sour and she finally calls her brother to beg him to come home and help.Upon returning Mickey not only has to deal with the family crisis but, a very specific redhead doesn't seem able to leave his life.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mentions of rape, physical abuse and suicidal thoughts. (Nothing more graphic than cannon)

After ALL

Damon was droning on and on again in the background. Something about s cars and women as he laid on his cot, arm bent behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The honest truth was that when Damon started going on these tangents, he usually just used it as some sort of white noise to sleep to or tempo for his push ups. He grew up in a noisy home and on the rare nights the place is quiet, he finds himself awake staring at the wall without seeing it. Instead, he’s seeing bright, fiery hair and freckles splattered on goofily smiling cheeks. That or he was hearing russian yelling and babies crying turning into his father yelling and he swears when that happens he can feel the crunch of his nose breaking like he had gotten so used to back then. Right now though, all he could think about was how it’s been close to a year.  
A year since he saw the only person that ever gave a shit if he even woke up the next day. He thinks his mom cared once upon a time, but it had been so long he’d forgotten her voice, let alone her telling him she loved him.  
With a sigh he rolled off his cot and onto his hands and toes letting his body lower like he's about to lie down before pushing his way back up. Focusing way more on the burn in his arms and the way his face would get so close to the dusty floor of their cell.  
You’d think the government would make their federal buildings have strict janitorial routines, but apparently not in prison. Not for the trash of the state.

“I had this real nice mama, yanno? She had this long hair you could wrap around your arm and Jesus, that rack!” Damon looks over to his cellmate half way through holding his hands in front of his chest in the most ridiculous example of a size and huffs at being ignored. “Aye Mickey I’m talkin’ t’ya.” Mickey rolled his eyes and shoved himself up off the ground brushing his hands off on his orange pants and turns to look at Damon with the same amount of boredom he’d give his teachers in his third go at freshman year. Clearly getting time to think was dangerous and there wasn’t going to be time to work out in peace. He liked the gangbanger well enough but, Jesus, the man never knew when to shut up.

“Ya? And who the fuck says I gotta listen t’ya get a damn stiffy thinkin’ ‘bout some bitch?” he smirks slightly as he sits back on his cot, knowing he’d been living with Damon long enough for the guy to know this is simply Milkovich affection and not him wanting to fight.  
Mickey’s just abrasive and most people never bother to look past the bloodied knuckle tattoos

Damon grins and sits up mimicking how Mickey's leaning with his elbows on his knees, “Got ourselves and ass man then, ey?”

Mickey flinches internally but quickly fakes himself into a snarky grin just the same, “You could say that, yeah.” He knew better than to be out in jail. Sure, guys all around were banging but that was more out of convenience and power play than actual attraction. Anyone knowing he liked to take would mean being someone's bitch or getting a knife in his ribs. Both were things he really would rather avoid.

Damon opened his mouth to say something when the loud buzzer sounded over the speaker to announce lunch. Not wanting to stick out to guards and get out as soon as possible based on good behavior and overcrowding, Mickey quickly pulls back on the top of his jumpsuit. Zipping it a good amount closed as he heads towards the mess hall, keeping his head down as he passes by guards and other inmates. Going through the routine he’d become so robotically used to over the past year or so. Until he’s stopped by a guard standing in front of his usual table.

He looks up when the guard says, “Over there inmate. This section’s saved for newcomers today.” Without giving much past a nod Mickey just turns and goes to sit at the end of a nearly full table away from the others to eat his meal. He was halfway through his meal when the gruff voice of the same guard shouted, “Milkovich!” Mickey sighed and was mostly out of his seat, looking over to the guard, when all the air left his body in a sharp heart stopping jolt. 

At the other end of the mess hall stalking towards the guard was his father. Terry looked bigger than when he’d last saw him. Flashes of that night in the bar when he came out layering over the sight currently making its way to wide blue eyes. His father must’ve sensed someone staring because soon he was turning over his shoulder and when his eyes landed on his son his face grew dark. Slowly a smirk started slinking its way onto his face and he knew.

Mickey was dead.

\-------

Mickey was panicking. He didn’t know what to do. His father saw him. Fuck. Terry looked right at him! How was he going to get out of this? He didn’t have friends here. Sure, he had Damon and Damon had the cartel, but that was a whole other mess he didn’t dare get into. He reached up and started tugging harshly at the hair that had grown considerably longer from his time spent in here. This new found tick only coming out when he could feel his heart like a jack hammer in his throat. Violently pounding away to remind him what a bitch he really was. He wasn’t strong enough.

Not strong enough to face his dad. Not strong enough to be gay. Not strong enough to control his anger and not try to kill Sammi. Not strong enough to keep a grip on Ian. Ian-

“Aye! You’re breathin like a rabid dog, mane. Siddown.” Damon's voice snapped into his head and brought his pacing to a halt. Slowly he brought his hands from his hair one thumb nudging his lip on the way down. “What’s got you all tweaked out, Mickey? One of ‘em boys give ya their nose candy? I tolja, man, their shits whack.”

Mickey looks up to Damon then, palms sweating as he clenches and unclenches his fists. He can’t seem to keep himself looking at what's in front of him. Shots of his childhood home and the things that happened there joining his current reality in a way that was making his head spin. He licked his lips mouth too dry to respond to Damon instead he turned and walked out their cell before the doors were closed. He knew what he had to do.

He walked directly up to a group of the new inmates and, pulling back his fist, he made sure that “fuck” was the last thing the guy in front saw before his nose crunched and he fell back into his friends. The guards were on him nearly as quick as the time he punched that cop. He felt them manhandle him to the ground as he gave a half assed wriggle to feign trying to be uncooperative. It must’ve worked because the last thing MIckey remembers is a shock of pain splitting into the back of his head.

____

He woke up right where he planned to be. Solitary.  
Here his dad couldn’t reach him. Here he could be safe. Here he could think.  
He closed his eyes. The light in the room only aiding the headache that guard so kindly supplied him with. He scrubbed his hands over his face with a deep breath before sitting up. What happened back there? He doesn’t remember that happening. That stifling feeling of the air unable to reach his lungs. The way his heart had locked up in his chest. What was that? He hadn't felt that way since...well, since Ian took off with his son during his psychotic break.

He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He was here because of Ian. Behaving because of Ian. Trying to get out and actually become something, all for Ian. 

Ian.

Who didn’t want him. 

Ian who had looked at him like that dumb, grinning, puppy of a boy, who used to chase after Mickey and beg for affection, just never existed. Like he had died. Like his Ian, the one who practically radiated sunshine with his dopey smile and fiery hair, the same Ian who could make him feel like he could actually get out of the south side and all he had to was kiss him or count the constellations the sun left on his skin, had been murdered. Murdered by the Ian he had now. The one who let his mother get into his head. Convince him that Mickey was like Frank. That all he wanted was to change Ian and turn him into something he’s not. This new Ian that had only visited him twice, the second time saying it was only because Svetlana had paid him to show.

He shook his head. He couldn’t believe that. That wasn’t Ian. That was bipolar. He saw him. Saw his Ian when he made him smile at how he couldn’t spell the assholes stupid last name. He had peeked through. Shown up in that small flash of light in those green eyes. He needed to see that. Needed to know that somewhere, even if it was buried under mania or something worse, that his Ian was still there. But stuck here, in this cold blank prison, there was no way that could happen.

Can you mourn someone who isn’t dead?

\-----

Ian

Fuck Lip. 

He thinks just because he ended up with the easier of their parents’ genes that he’s so much better. That just because Ian started to spiral out that last year in high school and ran off to join the army while Lip tried to stay around and play house with that slut, Karen, he suddenly has this right to treat Ian like Monica. He’s not Monica. 

Ian spits at the ground his mouth tasting like iron after Lip got that good jab to his jaw. His whole being aches from their fight, which is only adding fuel to his slowly smoldering rage. His body fell out of shape, the work he’d put into it to make it into the perfect soldier's tool, all for nothing because of this damn disease and those damn meds. Dragging his coat up higher with a roll of his shoulders and shoving his hands in his pockets, he keeps trudging his way towards the El to try and find a place to stay. Wanting to be anywhere but that house on Wallace Street with Fiona constantly on him about every little thing he does. Did you take your meds? Did you go to work? Have you talked to lip? Thought about getting a therapist more? You know the clinic can help you find one? Have you eaten, Ian? Ian. Ian. Ian. 

With a defeated sigh he stops. Just standing on the sidewalk between the railing of the bridge and the empty street. Maybe he really was like Monica. Not how Lip seems to want him to believe, where he’s doomed to be crazy and running away for the rest of his life, but in all the otherways. Unwanted. Unwelcome. Not needed.

Well he was wanted. At least by a certain thug. That same thug that changed so much just for Ian to tear him down and let his mother twist his thoughts into truly believing Mick had been trying to fix him. Trying to tell him that he wasn’t good enough the way he was. Now he’s just too much of a coward to go see him. Look at him from behind that glass. This wasn’t juvie. He wasn’t going to be making jokes about jello or giving him that look from behind the glass. This was prision. This was fifteen years. Eight if he got lucky. But, luck wasn’t something you had on the south side.

He turned to face the water looking down into the deepness that seemed to match the starless sky above. It’s funny. How he used to call Mickey a coward. Telling him he was weak for being afraid to be himself because of his notoriously dangerous father and now here Ian was, too weak to go see his first love. All because he didn’t think he could handle seeing him. Not after last time. Not after seeing the way his eyes looked like that day on the porch, when he told him Svet had paid him to go. After seeing how he just stopped there, asked him to lie, because Ian was too weak to admit that he can’t be alone.

Jesus, he really was Monica, wasn’t he?

Looking down at the water now he’s starting to think about how calm it looks. How gentle the blackness seems and how the waves from the wind look to be enveloping the base of the bridge with tender embraces. The water would be cold this time of year, but sometimes that shock makes it better. He hasn’t felt that rush in so long. Hasn’t let himself. Too focused on scarfing down handfuls of pills twice a day just so he didn’t get shoved back in the hospital. Carted off to a shelter like the unwanted family dog. It’d be so easy. Just to jump. To forget all this and leave it. His family probably wouldn’t care, they hardly batted an eye when he ditched for the army. Mickey was the only one who’d miss him. Maybe missing him this way would be easier. Knowing it’s not that Ian didn’t love him, but simply that he's gone.

Stop.

What is he thinking? What is he doing? He turns to start walking again, needing away from that bridge. To walk away from his apparent trigger.

Then it happens.

A car comes screeching down the road ramming into another in what looks like an absolutely awful accident. “Jesus.” escapes his lips in a breath. He then sees a man stumbling out of the car at fault, most likely drunk or high, and take off running. Leaning bit closer Ian can see a woman leaning against her steering wheel, hunched like she’s curled in pain or sleep. With a spark both cars go up in flame. After the initial second of shock wears off Ian’s in action. Running towards the flames and dragging the door open. The smoke is suffocating but he’s so focused on getting this woman out before the flames get worse. Finally he manages to get her past her seat belt, the smoke in his lungs far more intrusive than the cigarettes he’s used to. The more he coughs and drags two bodies back and away the harder it is to breathe. His vision is getting spotty but he can feel the heat dying so he knows they’re almost safe. With one more big heave he gets them another good foot away before collapsing with the woman on his chest, wrapped tightly in his arms. His eyes roll back as the world slips away.

Guess he doesn’t always run away.

Fuck Lip.

\---------

Mickey was woken up by the sound of keys in the lock of the heavy metal door, then it’s getting dragged bodily to the side by possibly one of the burliest guards he’d ever seen. He started to stand knowing that he should go peacefully and make this easy but despite his show of his hands and obvious submission two guards still stepped into the isolated room and manhandled him to the ground one digging his knee into his spine while the other roughly cuffed his arms pulling them at odd angles then cuffing his legs. With tight, bruising grips on his arms they hauled him into standing and shoved him forward to start leading him out of solitary. Normally he’d give some snarky ass remark or possibly even spit in their direction. Instead, he just breathes out a pained “Fuck” and shuffles forward walking as quickly as his low range of motion would allow him to. He wondered why it was needed for him to be this locked up just to go to his cell again, but he guesses the whole “attempted murder” charge has a large part in it.

Instead of shoving him into his cell again, however, they drag him into the yard and move to undo his bindings before shoving him again. He nearly lost his balance and stumbled forward like a toddler trying to walk. Biting into his tongue to the taste of iron when he hears a sharp, “get moving Milkovich. Gotta be on routine now inmate”, trying with every last ounce of willpower he had left to keep from turning and decking them. Instead he started to walk the track looking around for Damon. Not exactly wanting to hang out with the banger and his fellow cartel members, but knowing he needed to at least let the guy know he’d be back in the bunk tonight. Halfway to the usual hang out spot he’s stopped by the sense of ice encasing his spine, freezing him and making his entire being stiff as he moves his eyes over the crowd until he sees him. Terry. Looking right at him from his group in the corner. His father nudges some guy with a swastika on his hand and motions over to his son. The other guy appears to start laughing and slapping the chest of another, bringing in the rest of the group onto the joke that is Mickey.

He lets out a shockingly unsteady breath and tightly turns and starts to walk towards the doors. Sitting at one of the picnic tables that the elderly inmates occupy to play cards or whatever basic board game they somehow managed to keep in here. He sat facing away from them to keep from seeming like he's interrupting and looked up to the sky. It's become a true talent of his by now; being able to gaze past the heavy chicken wire and focus on a specific point until his vision glazed over enough that it seemed like there was no wire at all. It was the only thing that kept him anywhere near sane in here, looking up to the sky and pretending he was anywhere else in the world.

____

When they called for showers that night he hadn’t felt more relieved to be in a room full of men. He turned up the heat as far as the old pipes would let it go and lifted his head letting it run down his face and over his body breathing out slowly and trying to relax. After a moment his muscles had finally eased and he was able to tune out the sounds of the other men. For the first time since getting tossed into the joint he finally felt like a person again. Felt the way he would in those days of living with Ian, his sister and hell even that kid and his bitch of a wife. The thought alone gave him a slight smirk.  
But, true to southside luck, the peace didn't last and sooner than he was able to even notice them coming he was shoved into the wall of the shower two men stand in front of him with the curtain closed. One had a hand tight around his throat and even though Mick was clawing at his arms and trying to fight him off, the guy wasn’t budging. Instead he seemed to laugh and pressed closer to him the ink on his bicep showing. 

A swastika. 

He felt his body go cold as ice ran through his veins and he looked between the two men trying to plan how he could get out of there before….fuck. He was too late. Always too late. His dad walked in and shut the curtain behind him.

“Told you I’d fuckin’ kill you faggot.” Terry moved closer and grinned to his friends the two men adjusting their grips to where they were holding Mickey back by his arms on each side. Forcing him to stand there naked in front of his father. Exposed in all of the worst ways.

“Fuck you, Bitch. Yer just pissed that’cha lost to a couple’a queers.” He spits in his father's direction surprised by his own bravery. However, when there’s the feeling of his father’s meaty fist crashing into his stomach like a ton of bricks, he can’t say that he was surprised at all. In fact all he could feel was resigned. Resigned enough that he didn’t do anything as the next blow came straight to his nose and he felt the blood rushing over his face. 

Suddenly he was back home. Sitting on the couch and held back by heaps of pillows and the stench of stale cigarettes. His father on top of him and hitting him over and over again. He could feel the blood spattered from his nose to his naked chest as his teeth rattle in his head and his eyes swell shut. He can feel Ian’s hands on him. Feel how he had been holding his hips just seconds before. Feel himself opened in all the best ways. All the ways he’d only ever allow Ian to. He could hear him to. Hear him yelling for him to fight. “Fight Mick. Jesus fight him.” 

He was waiting for the pistol to hit. Waiting for that sharp pain in his skull as he grasped out to continue fighting his father off. Hw tried to swing blindly but felt his shoulder give to one of the men’s arms, the other swing causing nails to tear up his forearm like dull razors.  
The only that brings him even slightly away from that day- from the pain of feeling Ian watch him as that hooker bounces on his lap- is the sudden sharp pain in his side. The pain is quickly followed by a deep warmth running over his stomach and hip. He get’s the sense that he's falling and then feels the cool moldy ground of the shower floor press against his front and one of his cheeks. The matt going between the feel of plastic and mold and that old twill fabric with the burns of half lit smokes.  
Somewhere in the back of his head he can hear them leaving. Hear them all running off. His father leaving him like he’s Isaac. Only there’s no goat in his story. No divine intervention to tell his father to spare his beloved son. He’s not beloved. Hell, when was the last time Terry even remembered his birthday? 

Nine.

He had been nine and while mandy sang horribly and stole his gifts to play with, his father put a glock in one hand and a porno mag in the other. Told him he was a man now. A real Milkovich. Now he was going to join his brothers on runs and collections. He broke his first kneecap that year. Remembered seeing the kid his age crying against their mother when they heard their dad’s bone snap.

Funny isn’t it? That he thinks of all this now. All these stories he’s never shared. Never even tried to tell Ian half of them. Just too caught up in being Mickey: Southside Thug.  
The dirtiest white boy in America.

___

When he wakes up again it's to the smell of rubbing alcohol and vomit. His eyes felt heavy and all he could really feel was the heaviness of his body and the soreness of his muscles. He started to try and lift his arms only to feel them getting jerked back matched with the sounds of chains clinking and a sharpness in his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open and felt the pain of bright fluorescents hitting him all at once. He started to glance around, wanting to see where he is. Finally, it sank in that he was in the infirmary. Cuffed to the bed like an animal that might attack and kill, even though he had been unconscious until now. Blearily he started to think; think through what had happened. He remembers seeing his father and pain but otherwise it was blank. Anytime he’d try to remember he’d just get this wall of nothing but that day, nothing but seeing Ian trying not cry.  
He knows what happened.

He should be dead right now.

If he stays here for eight, let alone fifteen years, there’s no way he’ll serve his sentence to term. Not with his father here for god knows how long. Terry has nothing to lose. Nothing would keep him from the satisfaction of seeing his aids monkey son dying bloody and broken on the prison floor.

If he wanted to get out. See his life move forward. See Yevgeny grow up. See Ian again. He’d have to hide. Fuck there’s nowhere to hide in prison and with all of Terry’s shit friends, there’s no way to kill the guy either. So that only left one option.

Mickey had to run.  
__________

After weeks of healing and explaining to Damon the plan it was time to get it rolling.  
Damon had contacted his friends on the outside and got them a place to crash for the night. All they had to do was get out and to do that it’d take a key.

“Yer less scary than me mane. The guards’ll think I’m some no good beaner and would rather see me dead than wasting space here in cells they could fill with some other dollar sign.” Damon was tossing a ball up to the ceiling and catching it again. He turned his dark eyes over to Mickey, “‘Sides, don’t that lady cop got a wet spot for ya?” The smirk on his face gave Mickey more than enough of a hint as to the innuendo he just made.

Ignoring the twist in his stomach at the idea of having to be the bait he grinned, “Fine then. I’ll sweet talk the bitch. Keep her busy and either get the keys off her or get them passed to ya. You gotta be sure that friend of yers will be there with a ride. We gotta be sure this works ‘cause there ain’t gonna be no second chancin’ on this shit y’know? Gotta make sure we get it right the first time.” He raises his eyebrows hoping to any possible god that his moron of a friend will be able to get his end done.

Damon waved a hand but the grin said he wasn’t dismissing him, “Yeah yeah man. I gotchu. We gon get to that house and have some good ass food.” He sits up and looks at him, “Then ya gonna call that ride or die of yers and I’ll give ya two days to see if they gon join us, aight?”

Mick just gives him a quick nod before trying to mentally brace himself for this. He gives a tight roll of his shoulders and a turn of his neck letting it crack into comfort. Then he’s walking to the front of their space and leans next to the guard there.Swallowing hard he tries to avoid getting choked on her perfume. “Havin’ a good day?” He lifts his eyebrows and looks at her through his lashes, a look he used to give Ian whenever he wanted him to get on him. 

The guard turned to him and smiled. Her lips had this fake shine to them and the heavy liner around her eyes was making him think of a certain russian woman, but he smiled through it. “It’s going alright, Milkovich. Glad to see you up and movin’ around. That jumping was a bit of a scare, huh?” She keeps her manicured hand on her belt and looks out over the rest of a group to see if any of her coworkers were watching.

“Yeah well y’know. Nothin’ like some fatherly love to getcha all warm and fuzzy.” He tries to fake the most innocent look that he can feeling like a moron the entire time. Grateful for the first time that in the past year his hair had grown long enough to fall into his face. Hiding parts and helping mask his features to the point he’s capable of pushing through the twitch of his mouth the way his eyes burn thinking about what he may have to do to convince her.

She breathes in sharply when she soaks in what he just shared, “That...You’re father did this? How could he...to his kid?” She turned to look at him that horrible pity painting her pretty hazel eyes. “Did you tell the sergeant in command? You they can’t-”

Mickey cuts her off with a slightly bitter chuckle, “Ey now don’t go gettin soft there, Miss Piggy. Ain’t no good American gonna care bout some street rat dyin’ in prison. Specially if he’s killed by his old man.” He looks up to her knowing how to play up the feelings. Trying hard to mimic the puppy eyed look Ian had given him so many times before. “Glad to know though, least one of ya boys in blue sees us as people.”

Her eyes searched his face with this warmth that caused his stomach to turn and it felt like a hot iron when she set her hand on his arm after looking around. “I think you’re nothing more than a good man that was dealt a bad hand, Mikhailo. It wouldn’t be fair of me to judge you or to see you as less than human. We all mess up. Just some of us get caught sooner.”

He swallowed thickly at the use of his name but played it off easily turning and sliding his hand up her arm. Slow and gentle, like he remembered being touched before. “Careful now, go usin’ my name and I might start to think you like me sweetheart.” He stepped closer despite every last cell of his body telling him to stop. Ignoring how her touch was making his skin burn and the way the smell of her perfume made his throat thick and sore. “Ya know you’re the only one here that’s got an decency. Only one I’ve ever met that’s good to me.”

She swallowed hard and moved even closer, turning them around the slight corner to the narrow hallway by one of the side doors. “People like you don’t belong here.” She leans closer, stepping into Mickey’s space and completely misinterprets the way his breath catches in his throat. “Hey, no one’s seeing us here. I won't report you ya know.. I feel connected to you Mikhailo.” Her lashes flutter prettily and he watches as her eyes go from looking at him to his lips and rest there.

He self consciously wets his lip with the tip of his tongue before stealing himself and pressing close to her pretending he can't feel Svetlana’s hands when the officer sets hers on his shoulders. Ignoring how it feels hot and tight in his stomach now that he wrapping an arm around her waist. The grip bringing back flashes of Ian looking like he may get sick, flipping the sex worker onto her back, and hearing his dad laughing when he finally manages to get his body to let go. Fortunately this lady fuzz takes his sweaty palm as nerves as he sets it gently on her face. The way his breath shakes with his lips just a slight bit away from hers seems to make her all the more excited. He sees the slight smile flash onto her face before he presses his lips to hers. Swallowing back the gag at the way her lips stick with gloss or how her perfume is heady this close to her. He grips her head tighter and tries to force himself to kiss like he would with Ian, pretend that he could feel the burn of his stubble as he deepens the kiss further. Using his mouth as a distraction to his hand that quickly wraps his fingers around her keys. He keeps pressed to her until he feels them come off her belt. He wraps his hand around them to keep the noise from coming and nearly comes unglued with relief when the night call buzzer sounds overhead. He uses the sound to block the jangle of the keys as he drops them into his undershirt’s sleeve and as a reason for him to jump back like a teenager caught with his girl. He looks at her grateful for the first time that he's hot and breathless because it's clear with the flush of her cheeks and her in her eyes that she’s reading it as something else entirely. 

He finally allows himself enough air to whisper out a, “i...I gotta go.” and turns to high tail it out of the area. Getting back to his cell and looking to Damon with a quick nod. The gangbanger looks across the room to the hall Mickey just came from and notices the female guard all a titter standing blearily by her post and gives him a quick nod. With that they start to move. Walking like they’re headed to the showers and getting no odd looks past the occasional heckling from other inmates. A few crudely placing bets on who will bend over for who. If only they knew. Mickey moves quickly down the hall and starts to work the keys in the lock. A couple of them don’t fit and right when he thinks he’s got it the key gets stuck. “Fuck...Fuck!”

The female guard rounds the corner at the sound and looks at them in trepidation. “Mikhailo? Are you alright? Who’s this?”

Mickey jumps up and puts his back to the keys blocking enough for Damon to be able to work them and he steps towards the guard again whispering, “I had to see you. Keep feeling so stuck here and I just...Fuck man it’s hard feelin’ like we ain’t got no love in the joint ya know? Ain’t like I got family visiting me anyhow. This is Damon, my cellmate. Said he’d come play look out long enough for me to play with you.” His stomach flips when her face turns red and before she can look more closely to what Damon’s doing Mickey has her against the wall his mouth attacking hers as he starts making quick work of her belt. Trying to tell himself again and again as he shoves his hand past her waistline that this isn’t those women his dad would make sure he was with. This wasn’t some girl like Angie he was using to pretend Ian didn’t matter. This was a kind guard that he was playing and if he could give her one good thing out of his use of her then maybe it’d make it rest easier on his conscious. 

When he heard another guard shouting for her he pulled her hand away and gently pushed his fingers into her mouth to make her think he was just really into this as he tried to keep her quiet. In a whisper he told her to get fixed up and go out there. That he’d be back to his cell soon but would give her a head start so she wouldn’t be caught. She gave a roll of pleasure with her eyes before a quick nod and as her belt clicked shut she gave his fingers one more lick then a lascivious smile and she was gone.

Mickeys heart was humming like a race car engine and he could feel it in his ears. He felt like he was walking on jello legs as he made it to Damon who, with a devilish smirk, pulled open the door. The only emergency exit with no gate surrounding it and they were off. Running past the cameras in the dark with sharp Chicago are nipping their skin and chilling them down. They ran into the surrounding woods and jumped out to a country road about a block from the prison. A dark van with its side door open was sitting there as if it had been abandoned but the second Damon jumped on and dragged Mickey in with him, another gangbanger was slamming the door as the van revved to life and sped off.

They were free.


	2. My Sister Mandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's life has started over entirely. Mexico seemed to be everything that he's needed. When Mandy somehow winds up in his town he feels closer to home than he has in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of childhood abuse and sexual abuse.

It’s been three years since Mickey started over in Mexico. Three years since he’s seen or spoken to Ian or anyone from the south side. He started over. Completely. Found himself a couple easy, but completely legal jobs, a small and kind of crappy shack like house near the beach, changed his appearance and, the hardest to get used to, changed his name.  
Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich was presumed dead now in the states. The police reporting a body with unrecognizable features found with his cell tags, jumpsuit and a few other identifiable objects right at the border of the windy city. Little did the idiots know that the guy had been dead for years, some poor sucker that tried to swim the lake and must've washed up on shore.  
Now, here in Loreto, Mexico Michael Alexander Olensky was doing pretty well as a bartender at some rich guy’s resort on the weekends and working as a restoration constructor during weekdays. Either turning ancient buildings into walkable museums or repurposing them into homes or hotels for the stupidly wealthy. He’d picked up a good amount of spanish while here and was lucky enough to discover that many actually spoke english in the country, especially in tourist cities. 

All in all, Mickey was pretty happy here. He felt like he finally had a chance to be something other than Terry’s shitty son. He was content enough that he didn’t even blink as he pulled on his goofy looking white button up and jeans. Tugging on boots that’d he’d have to take off once reaching work, something about the resort wanting to give a “casual oasis vibe.” He really couldn’t complain, at least he wasn’t forced to wear some damn monkey suit. 

A few hours into his shift he had one of the waitresses come up to him, a pretty girl with heavy curls and straight banges that was awful popular with the men, a smile lighting up her dark features. She reminded him of Mandy, the one little thing he had here that felt like home, this crass but kind girl named Marina. “Aye Mig, there’s a pretty lady over there that was askin if she could have the “buff blond one” to serve her” She gave him a nudge with a snarky grin as she motioned towards some thin little blond thing sitting on the beach chair in an expensive looking dress. “I tried to hint to the fact that you only go for pendejos” she said with the snarkiest grin. Yep, Mexican Mandy alright.

“Fuck you Mari. Now I gotta go play nicey nice with some slutty trophy wife who’s man’s dick is so shriveled she’s gotta hit on the fag.” He gives her the most half assed dirty look as he mixes their signature drink and earns himself a blown kiss and wink as Marina sashays over to a table of older men.

Shaking his head he walked over to the girl and plastered on his fakest smile, “Hello Miss, I made you our signature drink for you to try t-” His breath caught tight in his throat as the girl turned and he was met with nearly identical blue eyes and that structured face he’d been able to recognize even when it had been black and swollen with bruises. Mandy. His sister was looking right at him and all at once it felt like he stopped and started breathing at the same time. The entire world around them halting as he stayed slightly bent to set down her drink with his jaw slightly open.

Mandy seemed to recover the quickest and her eyes quickly got shiny in the way that, if mickey had a death wish, he’d say looked like she was seconds from crying. “Mickey?” Her voice absolutely broke him. She sounded so small, hopeful, like those nights she had snuck into his room after their mom died when Dad would drink too much. Suddenly he was looking at a tiny girl with dirty blond hair and a ratty stuffed bear puffy eyed and snot nosed standing at his door with blood on her thighs. Begging him to let her stay in his room until Terry wasn’t conscious anymore. Of course Mickey did. He always would for Mandy. Now, seeing her here in loreto, it seemed as though nothing had changed. 

He snapped his jaw shut and licked his lips as he stood up, “Hey Mands...missed ya.”

After that she was pressed against him, nearly knocking him into the sand, so she could grip him like that day she and Ian picked him up from juvie. She pulled back and laughed all watery, “Fuck Mick.” she pushed his hair back lovingly and just looked at him before pulling back and slugging him hard in the arm. “You asshole! I thought you were dead! I come home to an empty fuckin’ house and the next thing I hear is some neighborhood pricks talkin’ ‘bout them finding your body by the lake. Said you busted out but that you..you didn’t make it...fuck Mickey why would you...Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?” She looked up to him her slightly darker eyes searching his and he knew she knew. She knew why he hadn’t reached out, hadn’t said anything to their brothers or even Svetlana. She gave a stiff, soldier like nod before hugging him one more time. This time much quicker and laughing again. “Got back to the city about five or six months ago. Ran into Svet. Took her and Yevgenny in to sleep on my pull out couch. I got myself an apartment, Mick. It’s not great but it’s just on the line between south and north side. I...I tried…” She looked down, that little sister he once had now standing their, pigtails and all. “I tried to do what you said I could. Left Kenyata. Slashed his tires and broke his kneecap too. Got myself a job being arm candy for rich guys and I...well that’s why I’m here. My client asked me to come here for a week with him, pretend to be his pretty little girlfriend…” She looked up to him asking for his approval in a way she’d deny.

Mickey couldn’t fight his grin. He was proud. Real proud. Sure, she was a hooker, but his sister had come a long way. “Sounds like you're not some stupid bitch anymore Mands.” He grinned as he ruffled her hair gently. “I’m off soon. Think you can ditch Viagra long enough to have dinner back at my place.”

Mandy grinned bright and happy, “Of course! He told me I’m only needed at his dinners and the gala tomorrow and to otherwise have fun. I’m all yours tonight, Mick.”  
_____________

When Mickey unlocked the door to his tiny, nearly one room home that night it felt like it was easier to breathe. His sister made herself comfortable on what he counted as both his bed and his couch and looked up to him with a bright grin. “This place is seriously cool, Mick. Kinda shocked it’s this clean though. Remember you always being a slob.”

He snorted a laugh and tossed her a beer, “Fuck you bitch. My room was the one with the bathroom. It was a mess from all you assholes constantly going through it. Was in juvie more than that damn house anyways.” He pulled himself up on one of the stools by his counter and took a swig of his drink while his eyes took in his sister. He’d missed her far more than he had thought he would. Seeing her now felt like he was back on his first day of kindergarten when their mom had shown up to get him. “You look good, Mands….look like Ma”

Mandy smiled, though softer and with this warmth at her brother’s comment, “You do too, you know. Looks like we both gave up on the hair dye...I remember Ma always hating when you’d dye it. Said you looked like her little cherub with blond hair” she shakes her head with eyes closed, soaking in the memory for a moment, before, in true Milkovich fashion, ruined it with teasing. “Too bad she couldn’t see that you were actually just an asshole. Guess you got a face only our mother could love.” She smirked around her bottle before taking a drink.

Mickey laughed softly before flipping her off in his usual loving way. “Feels good to look in the mirror and not see Dad, ya know? Ma wasn’t the best but at least she fuckin’ liked us.” he down the rest of his beer and let out a belch before changing the subject to something slightly more comfortable. “You said you went home? Found Svet and the baby meat?”

Mandy nods another warm, oddly loving smile on her face. “Mhm, was good to see familiar faces. Her relationship with Kev and V went to shit after she bought the Alibi apparently. So she was just staying in that trash apartment above it again and I figured I had a room and would rather my nephew not get asbestos poisoning.” She gave a shrug before continuing looking at her brother, “Really is my nephew, too. Can’t deny it now. The kid looks just like you, Mick. Like seriously, feels like I’m looking at my big brother on those bad nights again. Even pouts like you.”

“I don’t pout you ass.” he sniffs nervously wiping his thumb over his bottom lip. He felt guilty bailing out on the kid, but had ultimately figured that he’d be better off with no father than a gay one in prison for attempted murder against his boyfriend’s psycho half sister. That was basically begging for the kid to get his ass kicked- if the stupid name didn’t do it first. “How is he? Yevgeny...feel like...like I missed everything important. Guess I’m no better than dad, huh?” he runs his knuckle against his nose self consciously crossing his arms and looking to the kitchen floor.

“First off, fuck you, you’re nothing like our piece of shit sperm donor. Second off, he’s good, quiet and not into the illegal things we were. Even says please and thank you, Mickey. He speaks two languages already and Svets trying to teach him a third. He’s so smart and kind...he’s really got a chance. I really think he’ll get out. First with Milkovich blood to leave the South Side and he’s your son.”

“Wow” Mickey breathed, his chest filled heavily with pride at the thought of his boy being able to have a future. “He big? Was a fat fuck as a baby…”

Mandy lets out a small giggle, “Bigger than you were, but not huge...more tall than anything. Think he’ll be tall but skinny. Maybe like Iggy?” she shrugs “Who knows maybe he’ll peak soon and just end up small like you.” she smirks.

“Small my ass. Could still fuck you up, bitch.”

“Speaking of fuck you up, saw that your hands got some new ink.”

Mickey uncrosses his arms to look at his fingers and the tattoos that now covered them. One filled over with thick black lines with a rose on his hand and more black banding that led to the heavily filled, slightly tribal design that takes over the rest of his arm, part of his shoulder and runs right under his collarbone to cover a very specific name. The other was covered in a ton of line work set to look like rays coming off a moon right above his pinky. “Yeah, didn’t think I needed them anymore. I’m not that guy now. Not that stupid thug with shitty tattoos.” He looks up to her and continues while he takes off his button up so he's just in his tank, “Goes all the way up too. Needed a fresh start.”

Mandy lets out a low whistle, impressed by the ink and the obvious work her brother put into his body (though that was never something coming out of her mouth) “Looks amazing, shithead. I’m liking my new brother. Though, it’s a little weird how much you’ve changed. You still like dick, right?” She squints her eyes as if she’s looking at an imposter.

Mickey chuckles and runs a hand over his face, “Fuck you. Think you’re the one that ruined girls for me, bitch. Ain’t never gonna touch anythin’ like you.”

She snickers but smiles brightly, “Good. Soooooo,” she sing-songs to him, “you got yourself a man? There a Pedro or Juan I need to know about?”

Again, he shakes his head. “Nah, slept with a couple here and there, but nothing major or serious. Just kinda focused on my jobs and keeping my nose clean. Mikhailo has a record but Michael doesn’t” He shrugs, “Haven't really had much interest in anything anyways.”

She nods, knowing exactly why that was but also knowing she can’t say it if she values breathing. Her brother loved Ian. Her old fake boyfriend had completely ruined him and, if she was being honest with herself, she was a little more than just pissed when she heard what exactly had happened from Svetlana. She had loved Ian almost as much as her brother. He had done so much for her back when they were two kids in the slums of Chicago. But now, she hadn’t even seen him. Didn’t know if it would be okay to. She had known that he and Mickey had split when she called him that night for help. She didn’t know that it had been after Ian had done nearly everything wrong and her brother had stuck by him only to be completely disregarded by the redhead. She didn’t want to, but she knew it’d eat at her if she didn’t ask, “So uh, you tell Ian you were comin’? To Mexico I mean”

She watched as her brother froze up. His whole body going stiff like she had shocked him after rubbing her feet on the carpet. He snapped his head up to look at her and she wasn’t looking at her blond and strong brother, now she was seeing that dirty closeted kid always hiding bruises from their dad and fingerprints on his hips.

“I uh, yeah….yeah he knew. I asked him to come. Stuck around for three whole days to let him decide but he...guess he changed his mind y’know?” He sniffed his arms crossed again and his expressive brows knitted together in frustration as he looked to the linoleum.

“What do you mean? changed his mind..”

Mickey looked up and in a toneless voice finally answered her, “He came with me, Mands. Came all the way to the border, then just...left.” He shrugged and looked down. “Guess he realized I wasn’t good enough after all.” 

Mandy scowled “No. No fuck that! That ginger fucking asshole. He doesn’t get to do that to you, Mick. Not after all the shit you did for him. Fucking Gallaghers, I swear.”

Mickey sighed and ran a hand over his face looking tired and broken when he smiled and said “Mands, it’s fine okay? I was the asshole asking him to leave his life right when he get’s stable. Fuckin’ got an official job and everything, so it’d be dumb to believe he’d actually just go back to runnin’ with my ass. There was no way he’d know I’d start over and clean here. I didn’t even know. Thought I’d have to team up with some fuckin’ cartel or some shit just to feed myself. Got fuckin’ lucky. Gallagher needs routine not luck.”

Mandy looks hurt just hearing her brother say this but she just sighs and nods setting her beer down. “Fuck, Mick. You’re like a whole new person now.” She looked up to him and gives a softer smile, “Kinda like it, though. ‘S like you got out man. Completely out and I know you hate this shit, but I’m fuckin’ proud of you. It’s good to see you come this far.”

They spent the rest of that night getting caught up, sharing stories about the events of the years they spent apart. Mandy was able to afford her own place, a humble first floor part of a townhouse and had brought Svetlana and Yevgeny in to live there. Svet and Mandy had grown close and become good friends, Mandy helping Svet come up with ideas for the Alibi while she got tips on how to up her game for her clientele in return. All in all she was more of a date for hire than an actual escort at this point. Just a beautiful girl with multiple sugar daddies is what she had decided to use to explain it to her surprisingly overprotective brother.

Mickey had gotten clean. Clean from his life in crime from back home, the occasional hard drug use and even cut back on his drinking and smoking. Mandy told him he was getting old and boring through a fit of laughing all the while Mickey flipped her off and said it was to just save money, though he’d be lying if he said the look of pride his little sister gave him didn’t make him feel warm.

At the end of the night they ended up passing out together on the couch watching old movies with terrible english translations. Feeling like old times Mandy curled further into her brother's side when she started to wake up with the sun the next morning. Mick was snoring softly curled up against the arm of the couch with one arm flopped over her waist, giving her a moment to look over the new ink he’d gotten to cover the old. She was just about to lift his sleeve to see how far it went when her phone went off making her groan and her brother stir awake. Of course it was her John calling, requesting that she joined him for brunch with his ex wife and her new, wealthier, husband. With a huff she stood up and fixed her hair and dress making sure she looked as presentable as possible when Mickey stopped her.

“Gimme your phone. Gonna give ya how to get a hold of me.” he looked to her one hand out the other nervously itching the side of his face, “Don’ wanna go years again not hearin’ from ya, okay? Gotta put it under the name I use now though a’right?”

Mandy grinned broadly and handed over her phone, watching her brother type in the small details about his new life into the device, then stepped forward and kissed his cheek with a loud smack as she took it back from him. Hugging him tight and getting momentarily transported back to the day she and Ian picked him up from juvie and her brother showed her affection with no hesitation. She pulled back and was soon out his door.

A few days later she found herself back in Chicago.


	3. Seize the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yevgeny gives the Milkovich's the scare of a lifetime Mandy resorts to a desperate phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think!

Mandy was in the kitchen cooking dinner with Svetlana as they watched Yevgeny play outside running around the tiny yard chasing down bugs with a homemade bug net. Really, Mandy just hot glued a grocery bag to a stick but the kid didn’t seem to mind at all. Mandy had been back in town for nearly a month now, spending most of her time helping at the Alibi and helping raise her nephew. She and Svetlana now being good friends had discussed her trip to Mexico, all except who she had run into. When she came home she had, in fact, hunted down a certain redhead, determined to know what exactly had happened to him that he played her brother that way, but the moment she saw him her Milkovich temper took over and she decided that he didn’t even deserve to know if Mickey was still alive, let alone doing well as the man Ian had always said he could be.

“Yevgeny keeps growing. Looks more like man everyday.” Svetlana said with the love in her voice that only her son seemed to bring out. “Starting to look like your family. Bright eyes, light hair, must be taking after the Milkovich in him, no?”

Mandy smiled as she stirred the sauce she was making, the visions of her brother now, all blond hair and happy expressions, playing through her head. “More like our mother’s side actual. Terry was the one that made us grow up dirty and pathetic. Wanted us to look intimidating so Mick and I used to dye our hair. Made us look less like mom too. Helped us a bit when Dad’d drink.”

Lana gave a hum before setting down her beer, “So rainbow boy always more woman.” She grinned telling Mandy that the comment was simply a joke to lighten the mood. “Was always gentle with Yevgeny. Never raised voice with him or hand to me. Better than Terry that way.”

Mandy turned to her friend and smiled, “Mick was terrified ‘bout bein’ a dad. ‘Specially given the circumstances and how he didn’t know if the kid was even his, but I caught him a few times when you were at work reading to him or even singing the lullabies our mother sang to us when we were little.” She hopped up on the counter and smiled sadly down at her bare feet. “I miss him. Sure we had our other brothers and iggy stuck by us, but I was always the closest to Mick y’know? Used to run to him when I was little. He was my hero for a while. ‘S weird not having him here.”

“Maybe one day he’ll come back.” Svet smiles always knowing better than to believe the reports of her old husband dying right at the edge of the river. She knew Mickey well enough to know that somewhere he was surviving. She opened her mouth to say more when a crash outside had both women jumping and moving quickly to see to the toddler.

Yevgeny was laying on his back hyperventilating is small wheezes a nasty lump starting to form on the side of his head where he must have fallen. His tiny face was curled up in horror as his aunt and mother knelt beside him trying to see what had happened. Instinctively Svetlana picked up his upper body to cradle him, but quickly found that that was a mistake.

Yevgeny began to convulse. His pretty blue eyes rolling back as his body shook roughly without his control. It only took until spit began to foam at his lips that the women’s brains re-engaged and Svet was calling her son's name while Mandy lept to call for help.

Mandy was practically screaming at the operator to just send an ambulance giving her address at least three times before realizing she was rambling out of panic. Quickly she started to just report the boy’s condition. Saying that the seizure had stopped but that his breathing was wheezy and he was incoherent. Right when Lana began to scream that her son wasn’t breathing two EMTs were running to the boy. One with a familiar shock of fiery hair.  
__

Ian was used to getting calls about children in need. They lived in the slums of Chicago where parent’s didn’t exactly focus on the whereabouts of children nor what activities they became involved in. He’d had cases with children being burned, poisoned or even suffocating from stuffing a toy in their nose-that one had been a ride- but hearing that a kid had gone from quietly playing one moment to seizing the next was new.

He wasn’t prepared for the scene.

His heart stopped and everything hit slow motion. The world moving like when he took too much lithium. Svetlana was there crying with shaking hands hovering over a toddler with long, messy blond hair and clothes he knew. Mandy was moving quickly towards them explaining what was happening. He was grateful his team seemed to understand because she sounded like she was underwater to him.

He moved and grabbed the boy getting him on the stretcher and into the truck. The curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, even the arched but soft brows flipping the images between the toddler and a certain thug. Ian couldn’t breathe. Not until this boy was.

He started to pump his gloved hands down on his chest counting out loud to keep pace as they drove off. Lifting the toddlers chin to breathe for him. He kept repeating this.

The water grew deeper.  
The pressure was rising.  
He was drowning.

Then suddenly, finally, the boy gave a sharp inhale and it was like Ian’s life just popped out of a foggy bubble and back to reality.

Yevgeny made it to the hospital.  
__

Once they had traded Yev over to the hospital staff, Ian snuck away to find Svetlana and Mandy desperate to see what had happened. He found them pacing the waiting room of the ER, Svetlana talking to the front desk asking as many questions as she can before seeing her child while Mandy was anxious by the seats chewing away at her thumb like it was the only thing that could possibly make her breathe. 

“Mandy?” he approached her hesitantly, having not seen his best friend in years and nervous that she’s too wired to even want him around but when he head snapped up and their eyes met she seemed to melt and ran to him clinging to him.

“Fuck. Fuck Ian..I thought, thought it was you.” she stepped back looking up to him and wiped at her smudged makeup. “ ‘S he okay?

Ian steps back just enough to look at her “We got him stable on the ride over, but I can’t tell you what will happen now that the doctors are taking over. What...shit Mandy what happened? I’ve never seen a kid that young just stop breathing. All he had was a tiny bruise, there was no reason for that.” his face curled with worry looking like he’s trying to come up with what to say.

Apparently though Svetlana didn’t appreciate what he was asking, “Are you saying I hurt my Yevgeny, Carrot Boy?” She narrowed her eyes looking ready to shove her heel into his jugular.

“What? No..No! Svet I know you would never...I’m just trying to understand how he could have gone from playing to seizing. It just doesn’t make sense.” He looked between these girls, women who used to be two of his favorite people, and all he wanted to do was fix everything for them, be catching up over drinks instead of a hospital visit. He was about to ask more when his partner came out from talking to the doctors and called for him to come. “Call me. I want to know what happens to him. Please.” 

“Go Carrot Boy, I will call. Yevgeny would be happy to see you again.” Svet said eyeing him just slightly but more in a way that says she’s trying to see how he’s changed.

Mandy hugs him one last time before stepping back. “I’ll tell you where we get moved to when we find out what’s happening. Go back to work man. Save some people.” She smiled sadly while playfully punching him in the arm.

Ian took off after his teammate waving to the girls, pretending his stomach wasn’t twisting into knots.  
____

When Ian’s shift finally ended that night he rushed to grab his phone. Going through texts quickly he finally found the ones he needed.

M: Got moved to childrens. They’re doing blood tests. Found slight bleeding against his brain after some scan thing. They think that’s where the seizure came from. Yev seems OK. Just tired. 

S: Carrot- Thank you for helping my detka.  
Ian smiled, feeling relieved, just knowing that Yevgeny was okay made him feel better. He started for the L as he typed back.

I: Thanks for letting me know Mands. Let me know when visiting hours are.  
I: Of course Lana. It’s my job :) I’ll stop by to see him soon.

With a sigh he slid his phone into his back pocket and ran a hand over his face. He figured working South Side he’d eventually be picking up somebody he knew, but he never thought that it would be Yevgeny. Just the view of the kid’s way too familiar face had his heart in his throat. 

What was this going to bring?

___


	4. Home Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yevgeny's visit in the hospital comes with startling news and a hopeful phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Child Illness

Mandy was pacing back and forth in the waiting room. She and Svetlana had been there for nearly two weeks straight now, seeing young Yevgeny treated like a pincushion and go through things like MRIs and spinal taps while the doctors found out what had caused the seizure.

Turns out it was cancer. Yevgeny had ALL, Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Whatever the fuck that meant. All she knew was that he needed blood and bone marrow as soon as possible. She had just given her blood up to see if she could match after they found out Svetlana’s blood type was different and her blood cells attacked her son’s even after they tried anyhow.

The doctor had come out to give the news of Mandy’s test only to ask for Svetlana to follow him. This was bad. She knew none of this could be good, but she didn’t know what she could do. She had texted Ian- with Svetlana’s permission of course- who said he’d be there the second his shift ended around dinner time. If her blood failed she didn’t know what they could do. She’d never ask her brothers, Iggy wouldn’t even be able to be clean long enough for the test, let alone the transfusion. Fuck Terry all the way around. The only time she wanted to see that monster again was when she was identifying him in a morgue.  
She figured that Svetlana would feel similar.

Right when she was about to ask the nurse how much longer, her nails already chewed all the way down, Svetlana came walking out. Her eyes puffy and tired as she looked to Mandy trying to keep her strength as long as possible. This wasn’t good.

“Is cancer. Neither of us can give blood. They say he must do chemo and radiation starting tomorrow or we lose him.” She took a deep breath before continuing her voice void of emotion until it cracked at the end of her last sentence. “He will be cancer kid now. Say if he don’t get donor soon he may die. With donor children live and recover all times. Without it slim chance.”

Mandy gave in. Neither of them were exceptionally soft women, but she figured they both needed it so she wrapped her arms around Svet, who shockingly enough, clinged to her in quick response. He face buried into Mandy’s shoulder as she tried to regain her composure. 

“Carrot Boy coming?” she asked when they finally pulled apart.

Mandy nods quickly before running a hand through her dirty hair, having not been home at all for the past three days. “He said he’s gonna bring pizza ‘cause he wants us eating.” she smiled weakly at her friends kindness. “Asked if there was anything else he could do for us. For Yevvy.”

Svetlana smiled before nodding and tiredly sitting down. “Orange Boy is kind. Ended up liking him after some time. Even after he lost his shit and took my Yevgeny. Never hurt my boy. Even while hurting self.” she kept a sad smile and wiped at her eye before looking to Mandy. “What do we do? Donor list is long. Doctor showed me. Yevgeny is not priority. Behind three babies that need hearts. Hearts.” she shakes her head. “Must be hard for mother. Our babies have our hearts even if we cannot give.”

Mandy sat down next to her and placed a hand on her knee and gave her a small weak smile. “We’ll come up with something, Lana. Yevgeny is strong anyways. He’ll fight through this treatment. We’ll see him pull through. I know we will.”

“My son is strong, yes. But he is also still child. Has the rules of child strength. If he becomes afraid...I do not know what I shall say.”

Mandy looks to her, “You’re the best mother I’ve seen in a very long time. Wish my mother could have been stronger like you. He’s going to be okay because he has you.”

Svetlana gave her a small, broken smile before taking Mandy’s hand. Grateful beyond words that she had found a friendship in her, despite the odd way they had met.  
________

After yet another three weeks of being in the hospital every hour that they could spare, Ian coming by often bringing things for Yev to play with or to watch, Mandy was back to pacing the hall again while the doctor had Lana back in his office to give her the rundown of what was happening with Yevgeny’s treatment. Chunks of his baby hair had already started to fall from his pretty little head and he seemed even sicker now than before. He never once cried or complained, keeping a straight face complete with her brother’s stubborn pout of the lip, even though he was getting shakes, fevers and was starting to be looked at for tube feeding since his body could no longer keep down anything that was solid.  
Not for the first time Mandy was wishing she could trade places with her nephew. Even though the illness was one only found in children, she’d take it over seeing this small child miss everything about being a child by spending months tucked in a hospital room. She had been double shifting as much as she could everything she earned going to bills and Yevgeny’s treatment. At first Lana had fought her on the money, not wanting to feel she owed anything and not thinking it was Mandy’s responsibility, but when Mandy had told her to shut the fuck up and take the money with a hug and bright smile, the strong Russian woman had caved.

Lana walked out, much like that first time, only now the tears were still rolling down her slim cheeks. Mandy stood and was less surprised now when Svet collapsed into her arms. She held her tight and swayed slightly until her friend was able to speak, “The treatment is killing cancer.” she pulled back and looked Mandy in the eye before her bottom lip trembled pathetically and Mandy could see the second she broke, “It is also killing my Yevgeny.” She broke into sobs her whole body shaking and she couldn’t stand any longer.

Mandy got her into a chair and held her tight clinging to her and letting her cry. Not bothering to lie and tell her that it would all be okay. It wasn’t okay. Absolutely none of this was okay. She rested her chin on Lana’s shoulder as she stared ahead with tear filled eyes, trying to wrack her brain for any type of solution. The treatments may be helping, but if they kept going this aggressively Yevgeny may not make it much longer but, if they eased up, the cancer would spread and claim him. He needed a donor. He needed one fast but no one they had asked matched him or was close enough in relation for it to work. Even Ian had offered to go under the knife but didn’t match Yevgeny’s rare O negative.

They were failing him. Watching the child fade away. There was nothing they could do no one they could call. 

That’s when she realized. Her heart skipping at the idea.

She excused herself from Lana and ran outside as she listened to the dial tone on her phone before it began to ring. This had to work. They had no other choice. Yev had no other option if this didn’t work. Her heart was hammering. She hadn’t heard the gruff voice that picked up after four rings since the summer. Her body immediately relaxed, feeling like a child that just got wrapped in their baby blanket. Finally, she found her voice.

“Hey Mick. You need to come home.”


	5. Hey Mickey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandy calls her brother with a tough request and gets a shocking answer.

Mickey was dead on his feet. Trudging in from the night shift and an early morning hauling stone for a restoration of a Green Home built from the clay mud and heavy rock of fuck knows when. To say he was tired was an understatement. His entire body was falling asleep, his limbs feeling slightly numb.

He dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his boots, trying to get his lethargic body to get him undressed as quickly as possible. Right as he dragged himself into his room and was about to collapse face first on his bed his phone went off. Assuming it was work, he just let out a groan and flopped down, figuring they’d leave a message that he could get to after at least three hours of sleep. But the second the ringing stopped it started up again. With a near growl he pulled it out of his pocket hardly able to hide his annoyance with a short tempered, “What.”

“Hey Mick, You need to come home.”

He sat bolt upright. His sister’s voice knocking the exhaustion right out of his body. She hadn’t called him before. Hadn’t done much more than send a could texts every other day to check in, wanting to stay in contact without giving away that she knew where he was. But this, this was something new. Not only was he hearing her voice over the line but she was telling him to come back? To chicago, back to where he could get found and arrested all over again.

“Are you fucking high? Mandy you know why I can’t-”

She quickly cut him off. Her next words causing a heavy ball of ice to settle in his stomach, “It’s Yev, Mickey. He’s dying.”

His heart stopped. He felt his head spinning now for a different reason than his exhaustion. “Dying? The hell you talking about, Mands. He’s like five. There’s no way…” He trailed off his throat thick and tight as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. His sister’s words sounding like some sob story you read about, not something that actually happened.

“It’s cancer, Mickey” her voice was weak-tired and raw. Telling him that sleep had quickly become unfamiliar while she became best friends with tears. “He...Fuck, he had a seizure and we brought him here nearly a month ago. We thought it was something simple, a head injury or just a bad virus. But it’s...it's leukemia. He needs blood and bone marrow, but Lana and I don’t match. My blood cells attacked his.”

Mickey was sitting on the end of the bed his face in a shaking hand as her words settled to him. Her voice sounded as distant as they were by space, despite the phone pushing it through the hour time difference. He swallowed thickly looking up to the ceiling and blinking. His son, the son he should have done so much more for- the kid he thought would be better off with him completely out of his life and left in the very capable hands of his mother- was dying. Dying after only five years of life, in a cold hospital room and Mickey wasn’t even there.

“I wouldn’t ask you something like this if it wasn’t the only chance he had, Mick.” His sister was still talking. Apparently she was flustered enough to not notice that her brother had gone quiet. 

“I’ll be there in a day.” he got up immediately, his mind already made up. “It’ll take some time for a flight, but I ain’t gonna drive it. Not for this. You’ll just have to give me time to get to O’Hare then to the L, okay?” He tugs a bag down from the top of his clothset, one he hadn’t gotten into in a couple years. The very one he had tossed into that shitty stolen car he and Ian took to the border. “I’ll call Marina now. I’ll ask her to cover what shifts of mine she can at the hotel and I’ll call my team. We’re ‘bout done with the house I was just at so they shouldn’t need me. I’ll call you once I got a flight, okay?”

Mandy sniffed, somehow surprised that he agreed so quickly. Though, when she thinks about it she shouldn’t have been. Her brother had always been selfless in nature. It’s not exactly a surprise that he’d risk coming back to Southside for his son. “Okay...Okay, yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll text you my address and the hospital we’re at, okay? Dependant on what time you get in I’ll tell ya where we are.”

Mickey hummed his agreement before disconnecting. Sighing and rubbing roughly at his eyes. Swallowing down the first of what he assumed would be many tears.  
_____

Nearly an entire day later, a long overlay, and a painful turbulence filled red-eye later, Mickey was on the L. Sitting in the back hanging his head half asleep with his bag under his feet. The rocking of the train somehow feeling comforting after all the time he’d spent away from it. He looked up when he reached a stop, a young woman holding a baby getting on and searching for a seat. Despite how his aching, exhausted body protested he stood and tugged his duffle up on his shoulder motioning for her to take his. The woman smiled, well more so teen than woman really, and as she got closer she became familiar. Dark red hair falling out from under a knit hat, much darker than he had thought it was before, her large and kind brown eyes looking tiredly at him while she bounced a surprisingly big baby in her arms and sat down dropping the bag. His breathing caught in his throat. Quickly, he turned his back to her, praying she hadn’t gotten a good enough look at his face to recognize him. 

What the hell was Debbie Gallagher doing this far away from Canaryville? When and how did she end up with a baby on her hip? 

“Excuse me?” Her sweet voice reached his ear and he turned just enough to be polite, but keeping most of his face hidden from her making it seem as though he was intently watching for his stop. “You dropped this.” She was holding out his passport. Of fucking course his dumbass forgot that it was in his coat pocket. What the fuck, why did she have to open it? “Thank you for the seat by the way, Michael. Franny’s been fussy all morning.” She cooed to the baby bouncing her gently.  
He turned just a bit further to take the little booklet from her, once again grateful he covered his all too recognizable tattoos, and stuffed it back into his pocket. Giving her a gruff “Yeah. No problem.” Hoping like hell his voice sounded different. But, true to his Milkovich luck, Debbie's eyes narrowed. Taking him in with more scrutiny. Her eyes running over his sturdy frame and just as she was about to open her mouth the train stopped.

Despite him being two full stops away from where he needed to get off, he quickly moved off the bus with a lift of his now fully inked hand in what could be considered a friendly wave. He heard Debbie’s kind goodbye behind him and he all but ran from the platform. More awake and on edge than he’s been in a while. Of fucking course he’d immediately run into a Gallagher. The giant family seemed to spawn like rabbits and appear like dandelions. He just hoped she’d be the only redheaded family member he bumped into. Knowing the other would recognize him even if he had his entire face reconstructed. 

Thanks to all his nervous energy he managed to speed walk the rest of the way to the hospital moving quickly to the floor Mandy had told him they were on. He walked up to the desk with the kind, womanly looking nurse sitting behind a computer and asked as kindly as he could, “Uhm, could you point me towards the child cancer ward? I’m here to see my son. His name’s Yevgeny..” He prayed he wouldn’t have to give a last name. For once, grateful Svetlana gave their kid such an odd name. 

The nurse smiled sweetly, in that ‘I’m so sorry this is happening to you’ sort of was as she swiveled her chair to check the room number on the computer and handed him a visitor tag and surgical mask. “The mask isn’t needed unless you think you may have a cold. The medications make his immune system very weak.” she pushed hand sanitizer his way with another motherly smile, “Room one-oh-three, sir. Your boy is a favorite here. Super sweet.”

He smiled as best he could in return giving her a nod. Happy that she didn’t take his quick departure as unusual or rude, most likely getting it from every parent with a sick child. 

He walked quickly through the narrow hall, reading the numbers surrounded by gaudy animal stickers until he heard his sister's voice. She was talking to Lana who was sitting in a chair, looking far more defeated than he’d ever seen her before. Svetlana was a fighter. A woman that could kick his ass if she wanted to. Both these girls were. Seeing them look this beaten down and tired had his stomach swimming in the worst possible way. 

He dropped his duffle once he reached them and both looked up to him. Both sets of blue eyes going wide before he was nearly tackled in a hug by his little sister. “Jesus, Mickey, you’re here. Holy fuck, you’re here.” He held her tight in return feeling how tiny she was, wondering for a second if she was even smaller than when he last saw her. She stepped back before he could determine it, though.

Lana was standing there in front of him. His heart shattered in the strangest way when he saw her hard outer shell crumble away with a trembling lip and then she shocked everyone in their tiny group by all but collapsing into his arms. A choked sob coming from her shaking body as she finally broke down. Unable to stay that strong woman while her son was withering away in a hospital bed. Too tired to even question why the fakest of all her marriages was bringing her such comfort. Maybe because- with the exception of Kev and V- Mickey had been the kindest of her partners. The one who tried to provide for her and Yev the most. He clung to him as she whimpered Yevgeny’s name and her nicknames for him again and again.

Mickey got over his shock fairly quick and wrapped his strong arms around her. Five years ago had she held onto him like that his body would’ve frozen up on him, her touch making his skin crawl in the worst possible way. Now though, now he didn’t seem to mind. Given, it wasn’t his favorite feeling, but it was no more awkward than when Ian’s sisters used to hug him once upon a time. After a moment he pulled back to look at her, his hands holding her face gently, her hair wrapped up around his fingers with how it was messily hanging and he wiped her tears gently with his calloused thumbs. “Hey, hey. Stop that. You’re the most badass fucking woman I know, Russia. Don’t go getting all soft on my ass okay?” He smiled warmly to her feeling better when she gave him a watery laugh. Her delicate hands coming up to rest over his.

“Detka is so sick. He looks so small. What do we do? My...our baby” She looked to him, for the first time actually looking like a woman, a fragile thing that he couldn’t ever imagine putting his hands on, despite how many times in the past she had tempted him. 

Mick kept his soft smile on his face “He’s gonna be okay, Sveta. You’re his mother so if he can’t fight an army on his own then I might question if you didn’t mix up babies at the hospital.”

Lana sniffed and nodded. “Come. See him.” She stepped back and grabbed his hand. Looking to Mandy with a gentle nod before leading him into the hospital room.

In the bed was his tiny son, looking even smaller with all the IVs and machines hooked up to him. He even had a little clear tube under his tiny button nose feeding him oxygen. A hat on his head with thin blond strands falling out under it. Much thinner than was a child his age’s hair should be. His little eyes fluttered open when he heard his mother say his name and put a hand on his cheek, her other still holding Mickey’s as though it were a comfort to her. Maybe it was. 

“Detka, look who’s here. It’s your papa. You remember, yes?” Her voice was so much softer than Mickey ever remembered having heard it- Almost like the cooing he had heard from Debbie on the L.

Yev’s big blue eyes tiredly moved to take Mickey in his little, but oddly perfect, eyebrows scrunching into a little frown, making the two boys look even more alike than before. “Daddy?” he looked over his face before recognition finally hit and a tiny smile pulled on his full lips his tiny, wired up arms reaching out to him. “Daddy! You...you came.” he smiled brightly like he just was handed a gift on Christmas morning.

Mickey stepped closer and kneeled down by his bedside, putting a hand on his son’s little face before leaning down to kiss his forehead, earning himself a happy little sound from his kid. “Hey Big Guy, gotten big huh? Missed ya.” He smiled lovingly that warmth he had felt when picking up Yev after Ian took off with him settling deep in his chest.

Yev snuggled into his hand before a painful sounding cough rocked his tiny body. When he opened his eyes he looked up to his father, for the first time looking afraid. For the first time actually looking like a dying five year old, no longer trying to stay strong for his breaking mother and aunt. He didn’t have to. His dad was here. The dad he always had asked for stories about. The dad he had always been convinced would come back like some white knight and be a hero like all the kids in his class’ dads were. “Are...Are you gonna make this all better, Daddy? Can you...can you fight the monster doing this?” His big innocent eyes looked up to Mickey with so much dependance Mickey felt it stab directly into his heart.

“Yeah Bud, Gonna make this all better okay? You gotta stay strong for though, alright? Can you do that Yev? Be my big strong boy?” He smiled despite how badly he wanted to scream from the pain of all the trust his son was throwing to him. He could see how scared he was, how badly he wanted to just have his dad fix everything like some magician and Mickey didn’t have the heart to tell him that he couldn’t. That it didn’t work that way.

He stood back up with a sigh and stepped out of the room, shoving the palms of his hands into his eyes trying not to break down. He needed to be strong. Needed to be a rock for Svetlana and Mandy-and especially Yevgeny. They needed someone to depend on and they turned to him.

Mandy set her hand on his shoulder making him drop his hands. She was smiling softly up to him with gentle understanding. “He’s gonna be okay, Mick. He’s a fighter.”

Mickey looked back to the room then back to his sister. “How soon can we find out if I’m a match? I can’t let him get worse. He already looks so…” He trailed off, unable to say that his son looked like he was dying. That his baby boy looked like those commercials that’d beg for money that those who care didn’t have and those who had didn’t care. Saying it made it real, made it true. He couldn’t do it. Not with Yevgeny.


	6. Under My Skin, Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey sees Ian for the first time in years.

Mickey had been in town for about a week now. The labs at the hospital running tests over and over with his blood and cells. So far it seemed hopeful, Mickey was a match. He just prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that it stayed that way.

He rolled his neck as he walked back up to hand over the coffees he went to grab. Between sleeping in a crappy chair next to his son or Mandy’s floor- and in one very exhausted state, awkwardly sharing her pull out with Svetlana- his body was aching all over. He’d probably cry if he got to sleep on an actual bed for a good eight hours.

Mandy and Svet were sitting in the waiting room where he left them. Yevgeny had been taken back for chemo and whatever other tests the doctors needed to run. He handed over the somewhat hot, watery coffee to the two grateful women before tossing the crappy cardboard tray into the trash and standing there drinking his. No one spoke. The silence normal at this point, comfortable even. It wasn’t like any of them really knew what to say anyways. Nothing could make this less painful, make it make sense.

Eventually Svetlana was the one to end the silence, “Tests go good.” she kept her eyes down on her coffee cup rubbing habitually at the lid like she were wiping off the lipstick she hadn’t been wearing for over a month now. “Doctor say once Yevgeny settles after this Chemo they’ll start to do some of the transfusions.” She looked up to Mickey and actually smiled in hope for the first time. “Yevgeny has responded well to radiation. Poison to the body if I say, but doctors say it's necessary.” She gave a weak, slow shrug turning her head again. “I just want my healthy boy back. My sweet little Detka.”

Mickey brought the cup down from his full lips, Mandy having turned to put a comforting hand on Svetlana’s shoulder. “He’s going to be fine Svet. I”m doing everything I can to make sure of that.” It was true. Mickey had surprised both women but going cold turkey with cigarettes and beer, even cutting back on his caffeine and sugar intake to a shocking amount, the second he was told his blood matched with his son’s. He was going to be in the best possible health of his life so everything they gave to his boy would be in the best condition it could be.

Mandy smiled up to her brother, “You’re amazing, Mickey.”

Mickey just gave a half-hearted shrug and a nervous swipe to his nose. “I’m gonna go take a walk, aight? Need some fresh air, even if I can’t fuckin’ smoke.” 

Svet waved him off in her way of okay before turning back to his sister. Figuring they were good with each other he headed out to the first door that led outside. He was walking the perimeter of the hospital, taking in the chilly air of Chicago. It’d been awhile since he actually felt cold outside. Loreto was nothing like the windy city, but he at least had been smart enough to keep his warmer clothing. Glad that between his thick knit henley and the coffee in his hands he was staying warm. 

He was just turning the corner to what must have been the emergency section of the hospital when the coffee and sweater did nothing to stop the ball of ice that settled low in his belly.  
Standing right outside the door, leaning against an ambulance, was his favorite redhead casually lighting up a cigarette. He was frozen to the spot. Only about ten feet away from him. The same distance he had been when he had hidden under those bleachers to ask him to go to Mexico with him.

Ian looked good. So good. He’d grown the last bit, making him tall and ean. He’d bulked up to where he had been when he was back in ROTC, though now he didn’t have the baby fat covering the muscle now. His hair was cut short but that same rusted penny color that had Mickey going weak in the knees. By the time he was able to unfreeze himself Ian looked up. Of fucking course he looked up. There was this slight freeze to his face, like he was seeing a ghost. In a way, Mickey supposed he was. He wasn’t anything like the guy he’d left at the border. He was changed, in more ways than just the blond hair and added ink. But, Ian had once known every last inch of him, making the familiar features easy to pick out.

The ice in his stomach melted into a ball of fire shooting the cold up to his tight throat the second Ian opened his mouth;

“Mickey?”  
_______

It was a usual run. Just taking someone with a broken arm from a construction sight to the emergency room. Ian had done this thousands of times. They were in and out.  
He wasn’t surprised when his partner was asked to stay back to fill out the paperwork required of them, but he was ridiculously grateful when she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, telling him it was okay to go wait outside and have a smoke.

He was lighting up against the ambulance when he noticed a guy rounding the corner. An incredibly hot guy. He walked with this almost swagger, the cocky spread of his legs making Ian’s mouth water. He kept his head down, hoping to play it cool. Telling himself over and over not to mess this up.

Don’t be creepy, Ian. Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Fuck.

He looked up. The guy was just standing there. Staring. 

At first Ian was going to try and play it cool. Try and give him that look that would make men at the club follow him anywhere. But after his eyes had traveled up the thick thighs and heavily inked hand wrapped tight around a coffee cup, he forgot how to breathe.

That face. He knew that face. He’d know it anywhere. The full lips, straight as an arrow nose, pale blue eyes and perfect brows nearly reaching his hairline was something he never thought he’d ever get to see again. 

Especially not this soon. Not back in Chicago.

“Mickey?” The name was out of his mouth before he couldn’t swallow the shock. The name he hadn’t been able to say since coming back from the very tip of Texas. 

Mickey stiffened further. Looking like Ian had shocked him and quickly he was turning on his heal, moving away from in in the direction he had came. He tossed his coffee roughly into the first bin he saw. His head down. Blond hair catching the early morning light in beautiful ways. Blond? Since when was Mickey blond?

Ian shook himself and before he could even remember that he was technically on call, he took off after him. Wanting to get to him, hear that voice again, be close enough to smell him again- that familiar smell of cigarettes and jack. The smell of home.

His long legs helped him catch up quick. “Mickey.” he breathed the name like a goddamn prayer. When the beautiful man didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, he reached out and grabbed his arm. Only briefly registering the muscle he felt under the thick sweater.

Mickey froze. Stiffened up like Ian was King Midas and just turned him to gold. 

“You’re home.” He was speaking nearly in a whisper, his grip finally loosening. He dropped his hand completely when Mickey let out a snort. All the disbelieving sarcasm clear in the sound. Ian felt like the air left his lungs. His throat closing up with heavy emotion, the only words he could think floating out of his lips, “I’m sorry.”

Another wet chuckle left Mickey. He didn’t even look at him when he said, “No hard feelings, Gallagher.”

Gallagher. 

The wall slammed right back up. Brick hitting Ian full force.

Mickey just walked away.  
___

Mickey was nearly shaking by the time he reached Mandy and Svetlana again. The air finally leaving his lungs when he saw that Lana was back with Yevgeny, leaving Mandy alone in the hall. She looked up when her brother approached, the inviting smile slipping from her face the moment she saw how shaken he was.  
“Mick?” She stood grabbing her brothers arms gently looking directly at him, her eyebrows pulled into a worried scrunch, “What happened? You look sick.”

Mickey finally was able to swallow the knot, breathing out audibly through his nose before speaking, “I saw Ian.”

Mandy’s eyes widened before softening and she pulled her brother over to the chairs, sitting with him. “I probably should have warned you that that could happen.” She looked down folding her tiny hands in her lap before looking back to her brother. “He was the one that resuscitated Yev. Saved his life”

Mickey looked at her before scrubbing his eyes around the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. One of his many ticks to hide his feelings, keep himself in check. Soon he just laughed bitterly, “Of course he did. When have I not fucking owed the guy.”

Mandy’s brows furrow more, this time looking a little more angry. “No, Fuck that. You don’t owe him shit. He did his fucking job, Mickey. Yes, it’s great that he helped Yev. Saved his fucking life, but he signed up to do it. Get’s paid to do it.” she looked at him firmly, the look he always remembered seeing mirrored on his mother’s face whenever he’d try and get into food covered in mud. It was comforting.

Her face softened again and she leaned back, “Otherwise, what happened? He see you?”

Mickey nods, “Yeah, yeah he recognized me pretty quick. Dumbass said my name, too. Not like I really changed it, but still. You’d think he’d know what hiding from the feds was fucking like. Did it long enough after that dumbass trip to play soldier.” He flinched a bit the second the words left his mouth. He didn’t mean it, never meant it. No matter what he did, he could never blame Ian when it came to the influence of his bipolar. Maybe he made excuses for him, forgave too easily, but that was just how it was. Blaming him for his illness would be like blaming Mickey for the life his father forced him into. It just wasn’t their choice. Wasn’t fair.

“He uh, he grabbed me. For a second. I just walked away.” he swiped at his lip. Feeling this on sense of guilt. Wondering if he should have stayed and actually talked to him. It’d been two years after all. 

Mandy was chewing her lip, the look on her face making it clear she was thinking through things before she finally spoke, “He comes by sometimes. To see Yev. Started to after bringing him in. ‘S the one that brought the balloons in his room. So, uh, you’ll probably see him some.”

Mick breathed out a groan before just nodding. There was nothing he could do. He wasn’t going to deny his son support, even if it came from a person both his parents were weary of-given for very different reasons. Either way though, Mickey was going to have to do it. He was going to have to welcome Ian back into his life.

Fucking Gallagher.


	7. You Got A Friend In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian searches for help from Lip. Can friendship survive broken romance?

A few days later Mickey was waking up to the sounds of beeping and the smell of disinfectant. With a grunt and heavy blinking, he sat back in the shitty chair, scrubbing his eyes with numb arms as he removed the sleep from his face. He had finally managed to convince Svetlana and Mandy to go home and sleep. Got them to get showers, fresh cloths even got Mandy to only stop by after work to say hello and pick up Svet. 

He looked down at his still sleeping son. By now all of Yevgeny’s hair had either fallen out or been shaved off. Mick had gotten him a cool hat with some super hero on it that he remembered his son excitedly raving about. The look on Yevgeny’s face had been worth the three rides on the L it took to find the specific character. 

Yevgeny was still snoring softly, his little lips moving like they did when he was a baby, almost like he was tasting his own tongue. His eyelashes had somehow made it so far and were lying lightly on the tops of his way too skinny cheeks, making him look so delicate and soft. Far more fragile than Mickey was comfortable seeing him. 

He slid a hand under his son’s, careful with the IVs taped down into the little appendage, covering it with the other-making a tiny sandwich with him. He looked over his kids bony arm and up over his ill looking face then, just back to their hands as he let his vision glaze and his mind fall into an oddly blank train of thought. Just letting himself be in the presence of his son.

A knock on the door had him looking up. He swallowed thickly when he saw a strong-looking Gallagher in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, head dipped like a guilty puppy. Clearly he was waiting to be welcomed in, most likely expecting Mickey to turn him away, send him hiking with his tail between his legs. Instead, Mickey quietly opened his mouth, breathing out a, “Hey.” 

Ian’s head snapped up, his eyes a little round and lips slightly parted in that familiar surprised expression. He smoothed it out quickly, though, and smiled gently walking into the room and setting down a tiny stuffed bear on Yevgeny’s food tray before pulling up the chair on the other side of the bed. “Hey.”

The two men looked at each other. Eye’s searching, taking in everything that had changed in the past two years. When blue met green, Ian was the one to break the stalemate.

“You look good. Different. Really different, but fucking good.” He smiled sheepishly, like he expected Mickey to be offended by the compliment.

“Thanks.” Normally, Mickey would be touching his face, scratching or wiping at his insecurity instead, he kept his delicate hold on his son’s hand. “Mexico’s been good to me.” He let his eyes drop to his son’s face. Not really ending the conversation, just unable to pull away from his baby. The baby he felt so guilty for leaving behind.

Ian nodded slowly before letting out a sigh and relaxing in his chair, stretching his long legs out infront of him. Seeing now that Mickey wasn’t going to lash out, wasn’t going to turn him away, he felt better-like he could speak. “I...Uhm, How’s he doing?” He beat himself a little bit for being a coward. Of course he was too scared to say what he was really thinking seeing this man again-This beautiful, foul-mouthed, incredibly loving man.

“He’s alright. Weak and feeling like shit, but alright.” he glances back to Ian before back to his son, adjusting his hat a tiny bit before replacing his hand. “Keeps puking everything, they think they’re gonna have to put him on a feeding tube. Apparently ‘s normal. Wouldn’t fuckin’ know.” He shrugs a bit keeping himself as neutral as he can. All for his son. He couldn’t care less what emotion Ian saw from him after everything. “Gonna try and do the first transfusion later this week. Jus’ need him to get through chemo good this week.”

Ian looked over Mickey before speaking, the reality settling in, “You’re his donor.” It wasn’t a question. He knew that it’s what brought Mickey home. Could tell just by how he was talking about his son and all the tests, how the room wasn’t filled with his slightly stale cigarette smell.

Mickey looks up to him then. “ ‘m the only one that matched. Not gonna let him die jus’ cause they might have some damn medical record of my ass. ‘Sides, name’s legally changed. New ID’s, nothin’s fake.” he looked back to his son, smiling just the tiniest amount at the beauty he saw there.

“What is it?” Ian couldn’t help but wonder. When Mickey looked at him with his brows lifted just a bit, he clarified. “Your name?”

Mickey lifted his eyes and looked back to him. “Michael. Michael Alexander Olensky.” he looked to his hands finally letting go of his son and leaning back into his chair with his hands in his lap. “ ‘S my mom’s name. Olensky. She’s the one that named me, so I couldn’t get myself to change it too much. Guess I got lucky that she gave me the Ukrainian spelling of one of the most common fuckin’ names, huh?” He smiled in this sad way. He never spoke about his mother. Brought her up even less that Ian could bring up Monica. Ian could count on one hand- three fingers to be exact- how many times he had heard Mickey mention his mother. It was never much, always a small detail, like how he used the lullaby she did when Yev wouldn’t stop screaming or how Mandy looked so much like her, especially after letting her hair go blonde. 

Ian always knew Mickey’s hair was colored. It was far too dark to be a natural black. But, looking at him now, the way the blonde hair sat against his skin, he could guess Mickey looked like his mother too. Wondered if he or Mandy had more of her features. He wished he felt like it was okay for him to ask.

“I like it. Michael. Means Light.” Ian smiled warmly to Mickey, his confused face warming Ian’s heart all the more, “it fits you.”

Mickey smiled and snorted a laugh, “You’re so fuckin’ gay, Gallagher.”

Ian grinned wide and goofy. The way Mickey had said the nickname this time was far less closed off than the last. More like how he had said it when they had started. Back when they were teenagers, stupid and in love. Back when Mickey tried so hard to pretend Ian didn’t matter but failed. Again and again and again.

Mickey watched the smile slip from Ian’s face and for a moment he thought he had said something wrong but then Ian opened his big mouth, efficiently ruining any possible moment they could have been having. “I’m sorry, you know. For leaving you there. To go to a new country alone. I-”

Mickey cut him off quickly. He could handle a lot of things but a heart to heart with Ian, especially while his son lay ill between them, was not on his ‘can do’ list.  
“Stop. I’m not doing this with you, Ian. Done is done.”

At the words, Ian visibly recoiled. The last time he’d heard that it had been followed by Mickey claiming that he was only a warm mouth. He knew it wasn’t meant the same way but the wound didn’t feel all that different.

Mickey sighed and scrubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Look, shit’s weird enough, okay? My kid’s dying, Ian. I can’t deal with that shit on top of all this. Just...just let me be a dad, okay?”

Ian looked over Mickey’s face, his throat closing up just a bit before he gave a nod. He got up with a sniff and a wipe at his face as he walked out of that room. His head was spinning, his whole world on a tilt. He’d ruined it. Ruined it so many times with Mickey that he was finally done. He’d ruined it with Trevor by going to Mickey and now Mickey didn’t even want him. His only constant, gone. The worst part was he could only blame himself.

\-------

Even days after days filled with watching his son vomit, getting pricked and prodded and once, nearly passing out when walking down the hallway to keep his legs from going stiff; Mickey still couldn’t shake seeing Ian. The way the redhead had so desperately wanted to apologize, tell Mickey why he had left him at the last possible second, had something tightening in his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear it. Of course he wanted to know why Ian changed his mind. Sure, he had his theories; Ian had finally seen that he was nothing more than South Side trash and would never be more, he had decided that his job was too good to give up even for Mickey or, and this one hurt the most, he had planned to bail the whole time. Had already gotten over Mickey long before he had showed up but thought he’d play along. Go through their heated fling one last time, for old time’s sake. 

It hurt like a damn cap in the knee, but it seemed the most likely. He had almost told Mandy about it. Wanting to hear his sister’s advice and thoughts on what had gone wrong, how he had failed, but he couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t swallow the guilt of even considering getting involved with something so selfish when his son needed him so badly. All getting involved with Ian would bring would be heat, drama and speed. He couldn’t afford any of that taking over his time right now. Not when Yevgeny was looking at him like he was right now.

Mickey was kneeling on the floor, had been for the past ten minutes, in the physical therapy room. Yevgeny was walking slowly with rickety stiff legs holding onto two low to the ground ballet styled bars while the nurse pushed his IV along at his sluggish pace. He looked tired. Just so tired, like at any moment he’d just collapse, but his face was set with a determined furrow of his brows, sweat beading up on his tiny face as he huffed through the pain-determined to get to his father at the end of the bars.

Mickey held out his arms once Yevgeny got close. “C’mon buddy, you’re doin’ great. C’mon.” He smiled gently towards his son. The little soldier had specifically asked that his dad be the one to help with him getting his body back to functioning. When he had heard the request Mickey had been inclined to say they should ask Svetlana. Surely the kid would prefer his mother, the parent that had been there the whole time. But, the nurse had been adamant, going far enough to have Yev tell him himself. The second Yevgeny’s tiny little voice had squeaked out ‘Daddy please’ Mickey had felt his entire resolve melt away. 

He wasn’t great at a lot of things. Hell, he wasn’t great at this either, but the way Yev looked at him, like he was this white knight capable of slaying any beast in his way, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was something he could do.

Yev let out this little grunt and then he dropped his hands, determinedly walking without the bars. He hopped the last few feet until he all but collapsed face first into Mickey’s outstretched, waiting arms. He lunged forward just enough to catch his son, scooping him up and cradling him close to his strong chest. “Good job Little Man. So strong buddy. ‘M so proud of you.” Mickey cooed as he wiped the sweat from his son’s face. He wasn’t instinctively the most coddle-prone parent but, he was determined to do the one thing his father had never done for any of them-make sure his kid knew he loved him, knew that he was proud to be his father. The smile his son gave him, complete with his little arms reaching up-desperate to be pulled closer, made seeing him struggle to walk and the numb burning in his knees more than worth it.

He pulled his son tight to his chest cradling his tiny bald head in one hand hugging him just as tight as Yev was hugging him around his neck. When Yev pulled back and gave him that stubborn frown again he almost asked him what was wrong, but Yevgeny stopped all words from coming out his throat. “I’m gonna get better, Daddy. Juss watch me, otay? I’ma be big and strong juss like you.” He gave a stiff nod, solidifying the idea.

Mick swallowed the knot in his throat before giving a nod in return. “You already are, Buddy. Gonna be even stronger than me, okay? Gonne be my little superman. My lil’ hero.” He grinned brighter when Yevgeny’s eyes sparkled. He was only able to let him go when the nurse walked over with his wheelchair. It was time for Yev to get some rest before they tired the first transfusion. Mickey stood with a grunt, lovingly patted his son’s head, before he headed out to meet up with the girls. 

When he reached the waiting room he nearly turned right back around. Standing there, talking to his sister and a grumpy looking Svetlana was Ian. Fucking Ian. Apparently the fucker wasn’t going to give Mickey a break. Too fucking nosy to stay away and let the people he chose to leave the fuck alone.

Suddenly, Mickey was angry. More than angry-he was fucking livid. He wanted to scream, shove the idiot back and tell him to get fucked. But when he saw how Ian took a sniffling Mandy into his arms and smiled over her head to a slowly thawing Lana it was like every other time he had finally built his strength up around the freckled fuck- he melted. All of his walls came crashing down like brick to a bomb. He stood no chance. Not to Gallagher.

So he did what he could do. He stood back. Stood next to Lana and silently hoped Ian would just go away. Let him deal with the breaking of what little family he actually had on his own. But that wasn’t Ian, never was this damn golden retriever of a man.

The redhead stood back and eyed Mickey up. “Hey.. how’s uh...how’s Yev doin’?” he looked over Mickey like he used to at sixteen. Like he couldn’t tell if the ex-thug was going to answer him or deck him. Honestly, Mickey couldn’t really decide himself.

“ ‘S fine. Walked ‘bout five feet on his own. Seems ready to have this first treatment. Least give it a try.” He shrugged, eye’s mostly landing on his ex-wife and little sister. Only able to glance at Ian’s thighs. Even looking at his hands made him crave the fire they used to leave all over his skin. 

Ian seemed to take that in with a couple bobs of his head. “He gets his first transfusion soon so right?” he looks over Mickey’s face. Clearly the idiot could ask any of the three there but of course he had to stare directly at Mickey. The dead focus making Mickey’s skin itch and his hands feel jumpy.

“Yeah, uh, ‘m getting the shots and shit today. They’ll, uh, take some of my blood then. Apparently, the shots will get my bone marrow shit into my blood. Gotta take it a couple days before they put it in the kid. Gotta say, ‘m not ready to see them put that tube in his fuckin’ chest.” he sniffs wiping at his nose nervously. The idea of Yevgeny’s teeny, fragile body, being the host of a large tube right by his heart getting filled with his blood and whatever the fuck’s in it had him feeling dizzy. All he wanted to do was trade places. He’d die if he could be the one sick instead of Yev. “I’m gonna….gonna go ask the doc if we can just get started.” he scratches at the back of his neck not wanting to stick around longer than he has too.

Ian watched his retreating form and turned to Mandy once he was out of earshot, “Did I do something? You know, other than make sure he hated me?”

Mandy shakes her head and puts a hand on Ian’s shoulder, “No. Just give him time, Ian. None of this is easy for him. Coming home because his son’s sick and then seeing you. He’s probably just trying to keep his focus on Yevgeny.”

Svetlana spoke up then, “He thinks if he focus on you he becomes bad father.” When both Ian and Mandy looked at her with confused expressions she continued. “He talks to me sometimes. We were married after all.” She smiles warmly, having a weak spot for Mickey that she had normally kept hidden. “Started talking to me about Yevgeny, then he brought up Carrot Boy. Said he feels selfish by not focussing on sick child. Doesn’t want to make his visit be about him when our boy needs father.” She looked after where Mickey had just left. 

Ian nods slowly, “So he...he thinks if we talk or somethin’ he won’t be there for Yevvy?” He scrubs a hand over his face with a tired sigh before looking to Mandy. “Should I go then? Stop coming around?”

Mandy shakes her head smiling when Lana states a quick ‘no’, “No. He’s going to need you around. Mickey doesn’t like to admit it, but even he needs support.”

Ian nodded but swallowed down the tears that still wanted to come. He gave quick goodbyes before heading out. He needed to talk to someone who knew him better than everyone else. He didn’t really want to but he knew it would help.

________

A couple hours later Lip was sitting in Ian’s tiny living room in his tiny apartment between the north and south side. He was toying with an AA chip, still struggling through his alcoholism years later. Though, fidgeting seemed to be his newest thing. “So, you gonna tell me why you called me over or are we gonna keep dancing around with bullshit conversations about the weather.”

Ian sighed, he loved his brother, he really did, but the way Lip could always read him yet manage to be too stupid to not push Ian was beyond him. “I was getting there, asshole. It’s not exactly something easy to just bring up.” He sat down on the large worn chair that matched his second hand couch to face his older brother.

Lip raised his eyebrows in question, the pause in his fingers showing his impatience so Ian gave in. “Mickey’s back. He apparently saw Mandy in Mexico and Mandy called him because Yevgeny came down with cancer.” He took a gulp of his water while watching his brother.

Lip sighs and pinched the bridge of his nose grumbling about how he’s not surprised. “Glad to see you’re keeping so many secrets that you let us all believe he was dead.” He dropped his hand and looked to Ian. “But, I’m gonna get to that later. So the guy’s back and his kid is sick. Why the fuck’s it matter?”

Ian looked down and started picking at the label on his bottle. “I never stopped caring man. I uh..fuck, Lip, I still love him. I just couldn’t go with him. Not when I had finally gotten my life on the right track.” He looked to his brother, green eyes showing how much he was hurting, somehow silencing Lip. “I left him right at the fucking border man. I wanted to go with him, so bad. I just..I had a job, a real good job, a routine. I even was taking my damn meds regularly and finally got them stable. When we reached the border I realized I’d lose all of that if I went. Best case scenario I’d end up being able to help him. But, if I went manic, who knows what I’d have done and if I got low...he would’ve put himself at risk by sticking by me. So I just..couldn’t.”

Lip nods slowly letting all this information sink in. “Did you tell him any of this?”

Ian shakes his head and looks down again, his voice slightly watery when he spoke again. “I just said it wasn’t me anymore.” he looks back, determined to keep his feelings in check. “I tried to apologize but he wouldn’t hear it. I don’t know what to do.”

Lip frowns. “No shit he doesn’t want an apology, Ian. It’s bullshit ‘cause you ain’t sorry. You did what you thought was right. If you think he needs to know just fucking tell him. I never knew Milkovich like you did, but I know he’s straight forward. Don’t dance around with bullshit pleasantries just get to the point.” He scratches at his scalp a bit before continuing, “Though he may not want to hear that either while his son’s ill. So honestly, Ian, all I can tell ya is to be the guy’s friend, y’know? I mean look and me and Fi, that was always our problem. I jumped straight to sex and Fi would jump straight to relationships, but we never actually knew these people. It’s been two years, man. Look how much you’ve changed. You think Mickey’s just been stagnant?”  
Ian blinked. For once, Lip was actually giving good advice. It made sense and he had a lot of good points. Ian wanted Mickey back. Wanted him how they had been before all the bullshit with his illness and Sammi, but he also wanted back that friendship they had. That playful banter and halfway rude teasing; it had always made him feel like he had found home. If that was all Mickey could give him right now then, dammit, he’d take it.

“Okay….Okay yeah” he nods with each word before looking Lip in the eye. “You think he’d actually talk to me? Actually let me, y’know, be his friend?” 

Lip snorts, “Hell if I know, man. I ain’t a queer like your homo ass and I ain’t some Mickey translator. Guy can be a fuckin’ rubix cube. Half the time he’s moodier than a damn chick. But, I mean, I think it’s worth a shot, y’know?” He shrugs.

Ian nods again before smiling soft and crooked. “Thanks Lip. Maybe one day you’ll follow your own advice and stop being a fuckboy.” He grins more full on after that. Laughing hard when Lip threw a pillow at the back of his head as he went into the kitchen to grab their dinner.

It was decided. Mickey was back. All flesh and bone and just so present. This wasn’t something he could just pass up. He’d missed the Milkovich far too much to let him walk away all over again. He was getting Mickey back no matter what. Even if that meant he had to stop thinking with his little head and focus on the connection they’ve always had.

As friends.


	8. Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of past abuse/slight memories of trauma

Ian walked into the hospital a few days later with a plan. He was going to try and get Mickey to leave the hospital for at least a couple hours to have a meal with him. He’s going to make it clear it’s as friends if that’s what Mickey is wanting. All he wanted was to talk to him, hear that gravelly voice again. He wanted to feel at home again.

When he walked into Yevgeny’s room he wasn’t all that surprised to see Mickey and Svetlana sitting in there talking while Yev was missing for chemo. They looked tired. He could tell they hadn’t been sleeping. But, and maybe it was because he felt more attached, Mickey looked the worst.

He had deep dark circles under his eyes and his hair was slightly messy. It was clear he had been sleeping in a chair or on the floor if he had been sleeping at all.

Ian cleared his throat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while raising the other in a quiet greeting when two pairs of blue eyes turned his way. “Hi uh...I was just coming to see Yev and uh…” he looked away awkwardly before taking a deep breath and looking back to them with determination. “Also came to see you guys. Wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner with me, Mick. y’know..as friends- If that’s what you want of course!” he was rambling. He knew was rambling and the smirk on Mickey’s face told him that he knew too.

Lana let out a soft laugh before turning to Mickey. “Go. Get out of here and have rest.” She waved her hand with a slight flourish in dismissal, quickly shutting Mickey up when he opened his mouth to protest. “No argument. Yevgeny needs you to be strong and sturdy. You won’t be if you’re exhausted. Have dinner. Be rainbow boy or don’t. Just relax.”

Mick groaned a bit before turning to Ian again. “Fine, Gallagher, I’ll go but your payin’”  
______

Ian took him to this diner right on the outskirt of the south side. The place was decorated to be that cheesy 1950’s style complete with waitresses chomping on gum and tacky red booths. He nearly groaned at the cliche as Ian slid into a booth in the back next to a large window.

“I know it looks like a tourist trap house, but trust me between their cheeseburgers and milkshakes, it’s a fat kids dreamland” Ian grinned up to him. The grin causing the lightened freckles on his cheeks to pop adorably.

“Yeah whatever, fatass. I’ll take yer word for it.” Mickey teased as he slid into the booth across from Ian, grabbing a menu to read it over. Really though, he was just checking that they had some extra sweet milkshake and a burger with a ton of bacon. Satisfied, he set the menu down. “So uh...you don’t really do shit without a reason, so why so desperate to get me out?”

Ian blinked at him like a confused puppy before looking away, called out and embarrassed. “I wanted to talk. Doesn’t have to be anything serious if you don’ wanna, but I just wanna catch up at least, y’know? I know I waited till the worst time to tell ya, but I did really care. Still do. So I just wanna know what you’ve been up to. Get to know you again.”

Mickey stared for a long moment before clearing his throat and swallowing hard while he avoided eye contact and swiped at his nose in habit. “Aight, so uh, whatcha wanna know, man? I’m kinda borin’ now a days.”

“How so?” Ian tilted his head to the side and goddammit if it wasn’t one of the cutest things.

Mickey shrugs. “I just work. Real work too. With paychecks and taxes and all that useless shit.” He glances to Ian all the while trying to hide his nerves by telling him these things. He didn’t think he’d disappoint Ian by getting out of the life of a thug, but he didn’t want to have him think he was soft. Think he was someone new.

Ian perked up. His ears practically lifting in excitement. Jesus, Mickey needed to stop comparing him to a damn puppy. Those fucking eyes and that loyalty ruined him. “That’s great! What do you do?” Ian had this warm, admirable smile on his face. The look too pure to be something Mickey deserved. 

“I uh..fix up old ass buildings. Make ‘em look how they used’ta while still makin’ ‘em usable for today, y’know?” He scratched nervously at his cheek. “I also work at this resort as a bar boy or some shit. Dunno what’d ya really call us, but I basically give rich assholes their drinks and snacks on the beach. Gives good tips, so it’s nice.” He gave a slight shrug before finally looking back to an eager redhead. 

Ian had this warm dopey smile on this face as he rested his chin in his hand. A low hum worked its way from his chest before he continued on. “It sounds like you’re doing amazing. I’m uh...I’m really proud of you.”

Mick froze. The glass of water he had been lifting parked right in front of his lips. He’d never been told someone was proud of him. He’d never been someone that people saw that shit in. The words hit him hard enough in the chest that he had to swallow down his stuck breath before he was able to play it of. Waving a hand in dismissal he continued on, “Yeah, yeah. Ain’t like I’m out savin’ lives like you, Gallagher.”

Ian shrugged as he leaned back in the booth- Mickey totally wasn’t staring at how his shirt pulled tight over his chest- his arms propped up on the back and a thoughtful look on his face. “I guess. But, you did this all ‘cause you wanted to start over. I’ve done work with paychecks and bills before. ‘Sides, becoming an EMT was the only way I could think of feeding that damn hunger I always had. Y’know, whole army brat dream and all.” He looked away with this slightly distant look on his face and let out a silent sigh.

“You’re doing good, Ian.” Mick murmured before he could stop himself. “I get that you always wanted to be the hero. Didn’t take an Einstein to see that shit. But, fuck man. Look at you. You’re not out scaring the shit out of some desert rat, you’re fuckin’ saving lives and helping people in your own home. Better than some fuckin’ jarhead if ya ask me.” He frowned as he scratched his thumbnail over his furrowed brow. Talking to Ian was way too easy and he always found himself sharing too much.

Ian blushed. Those damn freckles popping up hard underneath a pinker version of his hair on his skin. The fluorescent lighting in the diner taking it from its usual muted orange to more of a flame. Somehow, he always took away Mickey’s ability to breathe.

“Thanks..I, uh...I’m actually pretty happy with it. Feels right, y’know? Get to help kids like us or even worse off than us. Helped out around the shelter Trevor runs for a while. Kids were awesome and it just felt right.” He looks away bashfully while he takes a gulp of his water, still waiting on their shakes and food.

Mickay hums a bit before speaking, “Trevor your boyfriend or somethin’?”

Ian swallows and looks up with his lips still around the straw before setting his drink down, “Was. Sorta. Broke up after I ran off with you for a bit, but it was kinda like we were hooking up the whole time anyways. We’re still friends, but...yeah. We’re just better off having the relationship I have with Lip than anything else.”

Mickey nods slowly, opening his mouth to respond, but is graciously cut off by the waitress showing up with their tray of food and giant shakes. Asking if they needed anything else with a bored look and a rude pop of her gum before clicking away in her knock-off white shoes.

“What about you?” Mickey looks up to Ian’s question, a fry halfway to the redheads mouth, “You got anyone back in Mexico?”

Mick shakes his head and picks his cherry out of the mountain of fluff on top with no concern for manners. “Naw man. Never really felt like I needed to get with anybody. Ain’t like I’d have much time with my jobs anyways. I jus’ hang out with Marina or the guy’s we work with doing renovations. They have game nights with their wives and shit and ‘Rina and I are perpetually single so she just pretends I’m her fag husband.” He grins around his fingers as he slides the candied berry into his mouth, trying hard to ignore Ian’s eyes watching him suck his fingers clean.

“I’m glad you got a friend. What’s she like?” Ian cut his sandwich in half before picking up part. Apparently the guy moved well past the usual South Side table etiquette.

Mickey, on the other hand, was chewing hard through a choking bite of beef, cheese and bacon as he took in Ian’s question. He gulped down the majority before speaking. Just enough that he was showing his food when he opened his mouth. He may not be mannerly but he wasn’t fucking gross.

“Basically make Mandy a Mexican chick and twice as fuckin’ loud. That’s ‘Rina. She’s sweet as shit and treats everyone real well, but she’s gonna rip you three new assholes with her mouth before hand.” He grins crooked and bright. The love he shows for Mandy almost as strong as the love he’s showing for this girl back in Loreto.

Marina had done a lot for him. They met at a bar that first week he had arrived. Mickey had been drowning the sting of Ian staying behind with bottles of Tequila and Patron. Rina had seen him at the edge of the bar moping in a booth alone and had decided to join him. At first, Mickey hadn’t been all that kind about it, treating her much like he had Ian’s shitty half-sister, Sammi when she tried fucking him outside the Alibi. But, unlike Sammi, Marina had laughed bright and loud before telling him she liked her men much more sun prone and at least a good six inches taller.

She ended up taking him home that night. Giving him his first shower that wasn’t at a truck stop, a hot meal and a neutral, open ear for him to throw up everything that had been on his mind. Apparently, Mickey had gulped down enough that once he started speaking he couldn’t stop. 

He had told her everything.

He told her about Ian, prison, having Yevgeny; he told her about Mandy, Iggy and their dad and how he had raised them. He even went as far as to tell her about his mother and how much he had fucking missed her. Something he hadn’t even realized until he had drank out half a bar and was sobbing against the shoulder of a beautiful Mexican girl he had met only an hour before.

She never even brought up having seen him cry. She only talked about things when she could tell he needed to. Other than that she was why he had his jobs, had given him a roof and warm food until he could buy his own place and still she looked at him like she wasn’t so much better than Mickey would ever be.

If Mickey were straight he’d marry that damn girl. He loved her like he loved Mandy, like he had loved Ian before they had fallen so much deeper. She was his best friend and he had never had a friend before.

“She sounds great. Maybe one day I can meet her.” Ian takes a drink of his shake. Both of them were grateful that the food kept the silences from getting awkward. Neither of them required to talk.

They stayed a bit after scarfing down their food to just enjoy their shakes. Ian eating his with a spoon while mickey gulped his straight from the glass. They caught up on work, what the Gallaghers had done with their lives and Ian was telling Mickey about his mother passing away. It had started by him saying he got another awful tattoo but, Ian was never unable to keep from letting Mickey in. He was looking away with a thick voice starting to trail off when Mickey found himself reaching over and putting his hand on Ian’s wrist since he was holding his cold glass with both hands.

Ian’s attention jerked to his hand and his face went soft and his eyes watered a bit more. He moved his opposite hand and rested it on top of Mickey’s-hot and cold. He looked up needing to see his eyes-blue and green. 

Mickey was looking right back at him. Emotions Ian couldn’t quite decipher clear all over his face. It felt like Ian was falling. Falling back into that rabbit hole he had found a home in. Falling back to Mickey. The worst part was there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stop.

Mick scratched at his brow with his free hand and a nervous sniff, breaking eye contact. “ ‘M sorry man. Know she wasn’t around or nothin’, but I know she meant shit to ya. Ya didn’t say goodbye to her like your siblings did. She was a fuckin’ awful one, but she was still yer ma.” He looked back to Ian not even pulling away when Ian wrapped his fingers around his palm. “I remember my ma dyin’. Fuckin’ hurts even if they weren’t Mrs. Bradey.”

Ian finally let one tear break the barrier of his eye whispering, “Thank you” before wiping at his face with his other hand laughing a watery, “Fuck.” He smiles brokenly to Mickey. “Sorry. I just...no one’s fuckin’ listened to me ‘bout this. Trevor did a little but he uh...he met Monica and fuckin’ told me to get over it.”

Mickey’s anger flared at that. Ian and his mother had a volatile relationship the second the old whore conceived him. How dare anyone know even the smallest of details and say Ian didn’t have reason to be angry-to be upset. “Fuck that. Monica was yer mom and you had to hear your whole life that your were jus’ like ‘er. I’d be dealin’ with shit too.” He squeezed Ian’s hand and let an easy grin take over his face. “But, let’s go get that shit covered sometime, yeah? Ain’t no homo gonna be taken seriously with some giant fuckin’ titties on his back.” He snorts slightly the vision of the described tattoo something that just somehow suited the situation, but something he knew Ian would love more if it were actually representative of his mother.

Ian laughed in that bright, beautiful way of his and reminded Mickey of how much pride he found in being able to cause that sound.  
“I’d love that.”


	9. Boy Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey bonds with his son. Ian tries to get closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Small depictions of medical procedures.

It was a week after his dinner with Ian and Mickey hardly had time to think about how good it felt to be close and open with the redhead. He’d been far too busy spending time at the hospital with Yevgeny and speaking with Svetlana to focus on much else. Today was the first round of transfusions Yev would be going through.  
He’d spent all of yesterday having tubes and needles shoved into his arms for the doctors to take bone marrow and blood for his son. To say he was nervous was putting it lightly. Those donations hadn’t been the most comfortable of experiences. In fact, they hurt like a bitch and he’d been shot. Three times.

Yev was awake when he walked into the room. “Hi Daddy!” The kid smiled bright looking up to Mickey like he was some sort of hero that just strolled in cape and all.

Mick couldn’t stop the smile the warmth burning in his chest caused. “Hey little man. How’re you feeling? Ready for today?” He moved over to kiss Yevgeny’s forehead his hand resting on the back of his now bald little head.

Yevgeny chewed his lip and looked over to the side of the room the door was on, clearly looking for anyone who might be listening, before his big baby blues locked with his father’s. “Don’t tell Mommy but I’m kinda scared. I don’t like the big needles and everytime they say they’re gonna do something and make me all better it just makes me feel worse. I just wanna go home, Daddy. Wanna go home with you.” He looked down to his little hands playing with them nervously. 

The kid always seemed to play brave. He remembered seeing Yev reach over to dry Svetlana’s tears one night when she had been crying at his bedside thinking he was asleep. He had just brushed her hair back with his little hand and grinned around all the tubes running around his frail body saying, “It’s okay, Momma. Don’t cry. I’m your big strong boy and I can fight even better than Daddy. I’m gonna be okay, Mommy.” 

It was weird. How strong children could be even when their parents weren’t. Mickey had remembered being Yevgeny’s age and saying very similar to his own mother. Only instead he’d been wiping away tears and blood and his mother was tweaking so hard that she hadn’t pulled him close and kissed him sweetly until he was giggling and pushing away like Svetlana had.

In a way, it almost made him more impressed by his son. Yevgeny never had to be strong. His whole life he’d had a mother that protected him with the ferocity of a bear. He had the hearts of people like Kevin and V and quickly had even won over his own sister. Mickey’s childhood had been training him, molding into the fighter that he had become. He was strong and battle ready because he had survived. Yevgeny simply thrived. He loved like everything he was given was a treasure and everyone he knew were the most important people to ever be in this world.

Seeing Yevgeny feel comfortable enough to show any weakness to him had his heart twisting in that choking way it had whenever Ian had given him that look. “Hey...Hey ‘Genny” he murmured as he sat on the bed and cradled his kid as much as he could. “I’ll be here the whole time okay? We’ll talk ‘bout cool things like dinosaurs and monsters and that pretty little girl down the hall I always see you grinning at.” He smiled and gently pinched his son’s cheek making the kid giggle and swat at his rough hands.

Yevgeny went quiet after a moment. The giggles fading off into a furrowed brow and a pouting lip. Then Yev wiped at his mouth-more proof of who his father was-and looked up to Mickey. “Daddy? Can you stay and hold me while they do it? Momma always gets real sad and I always just feel safe with you.” He looks away again. 

Nearly a month ago now, Mickey could’ve sworn all the kid would see him as was just some guy that kinda looked like him. But, Yevgeny had instantly accepted that he was his dad and seemed pretty okay with the idea that he had left to be safe. Now, having gotten to know each other, Yevgeny seemed to look at him like some sort of hero. The same way he’d seen young boys look at soldiers or firefighters-but stronger.  
____

When it came time for the procedure the nurse started explaining that they were going to put Yevgeny under since they had to use a PICC Line. Apparently, that was just some giant needle they’d stitch into his arm that’d have a tube that led up to his heart to give the most direct treatment. Once the line was in they’d only attach more IV styled bags when it was time for another transfusion.

Honestly, the medical jargon made little to no sense to Mickey, but his son just seemed to nod; apparently he had heard these terms from the Dr.s and other kids enough to know the meaning.

With permission from the nurses, Mickey was laying down with Yev curled against his chest with his hand resting over his son’s tiny abdomen. Yev had just maintained eye contact with him and gave him a sweet smile before he succumbed to the anesthetics. When they started to slide the needle into his tiny arm, visibly pushing it up the entire length and sewing it in place, Mickey had to look away.  
____

Yevgeny had been exhausted after they had woken him up and once they were positive all was well he had curled further into Mickey’s chest and fallen back asleep. At first, the trust and love his son seemed to have for him confused him. Now though, Mickey reveled in it. He curled around his son and pressed his face into the hat he had pulled on to stay warm. He didn’t even notice when he fell into the best sleep he’d gotten since coming back.  
___

Ian showed up about an hour into their nap to see how Yevgeny’s treatment had gone. He walked into the room and felt his heart melt and then swell to a bursting point at the sight of Mickey and his mini-me curled together. Yevgeny looked just so safe and warm. Something Ian couldn’t help but remember feeling when Mickey had held him like that as well.

Lana’s voice was the only thing that pulled him from his stare. “Yevgeny find home in his father.” She stood from her chair, where she had been reading, and walked over by Ian. She wrapped her arms around her thin body, hands resting on her upper arms, as they continued to watch these men sleep. “Might have been piece of shit husband but Mickey is good father.” She smiled warm up to Ian before looking back to her son and the man that gave him to her. “I never want Yevgeny knowing why he is, but I’m very happy that Mickey ended up being father. He’s a good man.”

Ian swallowed thickly, his eyes suspiciously wet. “He is. The best I think I’ve ever met, actually.” He puts a friendly hand on Svet’s far shoulder and let her lean against him. “Mandy said you guys were staying with her. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Lana frowned slightly and glanced to him. “Make stubborn Ukrainian sleep in actual bed. Shared once with me after I forced him two when he was half dead on his feet. Otherwise all he does is take the floor or sleep here. He will become sick too if he does not rest. He listens only to Carrot Boy.” She smiled soft and affectionate after saying the nickname.

“He did go to dinner with me...and I do have a guest room” Ian rubbed the back of his neck before hugging Lana closer and rubbing her arm. “I’ll do my best but I can’t promise anything.”  
___

When Ian came back up after eating in the cafeteria with Mandy and Lana before they had to grab showers and clothes for their shift staying at the hospital, Mickey was awake but still laying their to not disturb his son.

“Hey…” Ian spoke softly and set down the hot coffee and food he had bought Mickey on the open counter space.

Mickey looked up to him and returned and equally as soft “Hey.”

Ian sat and pointed out the food getting a gruff thanks before they fell into a thick silence. He looked at his feet unsure of how to ask this but decides to just go for it. “So, uh, Lana said you’ve only slept here for like two weeks since you sleep on the floor at Mandy’s. Uhm, I have a guest room and extra food and I…” Ian went off into a nervous ramble, able to feel MIckey’s eyes watching his every move.

“You inviting me to a sleepover, Gallagher?”

Ian’s head shot up. He expected Mickey to be scowling and to tell him to go fuck himself but when he saw the slight humor and the gratefulness on MIckey’s face he knew that he had won. With a large grin, he got Mickey to chuckle for the first time in weeks.  
“Fuck you is what you’re invited to.”


	10. Sleepover?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey catch up in Ian's appartment. Tension between the two rises further.

Mickey finds himself walking into Ian’s apartment behind the redhead multiple hours later. Holding the strap to his backpack, he looks around the decently sized space. Gallagher had moved to an apartment building right between the north and south sides, the place one of the complexes with stairs leading up to doors all placed motel style with letters on the doors and addresses on the buildings. The space inside was all second hand furniture, but there was this warmth between the homemade quilts and abundance of pillows tossed around on couches and chairs. Drawings and letters pinned next to photographs on the fridge with goofy magnets, a note on the whiteboard calendar about Ian being a loser and even the trashy suburban housewife styled decor sign of “It’s five o’clock somewhere” all made the place Ian.

It looked like home. Far cleaner and more organized than the Milkovich (or Gallagher for that matter) home had ever been, but there was just this relaxed feeling the second you walked in. It was like any time Ian came around.

“Make yourself comfortable. There’s only one bathroom but, uh, I have that spare room off to the right. Figured an extra bed would be a good idea with all the siblings I got.” Ian grinned sheepishly towards him, rubbing his neck in that way that said Mickey had been silent for too long.

With a sniff and a nod, Mick drops his bag and kicks off his shoes while shuffling out of his jacket. “Cool if I have a shower?” He glances up to the ginger, brows raising habitually while he waits for an answer; one that seems to be giving the guy a hard time to find.

Finally, Ian’s able to snap his brain back from the half minute of remembering hot steamy showers with Mickey and is able to respond like an actual human being. “Uh, yeah sure. Towels are in the cabinet right inside. Feel free to use whatever. Blade on the razor’s new too if you feel like shavin’ or whatever.” He lifts his shoulders slightly, trying so hard to give off an air of nonchalance. 

Mickey catches himself staring a bit too long before he just licks his lips and gives a quick nod. He moves quickly to the bathroom with his back and leans against the door the second its closed behind him. His heart was beating heavy and hard in his chest, his body heating from his core to his face.

With a shaky hand he reaches up and wipes at his face. “Fuck…”  
_______

Ian lets out a heavy sigh. Of course he had to go and make it weird. Of course he had to be a giant idiot and so obviously stare at him. Mickey was probably thinking he was doing all of this just to get into his pants, like he was such a big dick to put his damn horniness over the fact that the boy he once saw as his adopted son was in the hospital and Mickey hadn’t slept properly since arriving to see him.

He walked over to his tiny kitchen and got a glass of water from the sink, quickly downing it before sighing and moving to lean on his hands at the counter cut out of the wall over his living room. He was so stupid. Dropping his head in shame, he ridiculed himself for always fucking things up with this guy. He used to mess up by pushing him so hard to break down walls and yank him kicking and screaming out of his comfort zone. Now, he’s not only left him at the border because he was too fucking scared to go with him, but he’s acting like a fucking pervert when all Mickey needed was a damn friend. He needed to have someone standing here with him and letting him go through this however he needed to- needed someone to be solid and calm while he wore himself down giving everything to his son. Mickey needed a friend.

Ian looked up once he felt he had his breathing under control and went to flip through TV channels. Maybe if he acted like a normal human being he’d actually trick himself into being one.

Fat chance.  
___

Mickey finishes scrubbing the stale smell of hospital off his skin before stepping out into the steamed bathroom. He needed that. His muscles hadn’t seemed as tight as they were until he had the hot water pounding down against them. His hair felt almost new now that the matted gel from far too long without washing was out(at least he had baseball caps to hide it).

Pulling on the sweats and loose fitting white t-shirt he had in his bag he stepped out into the apartment, trying hard not to sniff at himself just to smell Ian’s body wash on his skin. He wanted to pretend he didn’t love smelling like the guy.

The low blue light from the TV led him to Ian who was planted on the couch in his small living room. His head was resting in the palm of his hand against the arm of the chair while he skimmed through his phone, some stupid commercial playing in the bathroom.

Mickey stood for the moment to just watch him, taking him in until his throat tightened. Swallowing, he planted himself on the other end of the couch with something between a huff and a sigh.

Ian looked up, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He could feel Ian staring. Could feel the moment the man noticed that he had used his body wash, the not so subtle inhale giving him away rather quickly.

His hand twitched, begged him to reach out and touch. Touch that hot, soft skin he used to dig his calloused fingers into, play with that hair Ian could never seem to tame, hell, even just pressing close to him sounded like heaven. Instead, though, he just clenched his hands into fists and brought one leg up to rest his chin by his knee. Coward.

“Feel better? I don’t got many action movies, Carl decided to steal them for Military school. But, uh, I got plenty of crappy cable television and a totally not-legal netflix account.” Ian grinned sheepishly towards him. Damn that smile did things. “I, uh, also got more princess movies than any single adult male should ever own.”

Mickey turned to him then arching his eyebrow in question.

“Franny likes them. I like babysitting for Debbie when I get time off. Let’s her have time for school or to even get a date here and there. ‘Sides, I always liked kids. ‘Specially when they’re tiny.” He smiled bright before snorting an awkward laugh and rubbing at his neck as his face flushed to match his hair. “Damn, that probably just sounded even creepier, huh?”

“Yeah, whatever, Pedo-Bear. I get whatcha mean.” He could feel his lips pulling into that stupid smile that only this idiot seemed to drag out of him. After all these years he was still puddy in the guy’s hands. Wasn’t he ever gonna learn?

Ian gave him another beautiful laugh in response even nudging him with his arm. (He’d be lying if he said it didn’t send sparks through his body.) “Dick. Yev’s a good kid, though Mick. Looks just like you too.”

Mickey snorts a slight laugh, “Poor lil’ fucker.”

Ian rolls his eyes, “Yeah cause you’re totally hideous.” He turns to face him more a crooked grin on his face. “He even does that eyebrow and lip thing you do.”

Mickey turns to that, brows furrowed in a confused frown. “The fuck?”

Ian snickered and eyed him slightly. “You always know what your mood is cause you’ll either bite your lip, lick it or pull it into your mouth. You basically talk with your eyebrows too.”

Mickey glares a bit more, “Do fuckin’ not.”

Ian just snorted a laugh and pressed a finger between his brows with a playful shove. “Sure, Mick. Whatever you say.”

Mickey grabbed his hand to pull it away from his face but didn’t even think about letting go. “Ain’t like you aren’t obvious, Red. You fuckin’ perk up like a damn dog half the time. Shocked you don’t shake your ass when you get excited.”

Ian’s face flushes slightly and his eyes get a little hazy as he eyes him. “Mm, betcha’d like that, huh Mick.” He leans forward a slight bit in playful challenge.

Mickey grins and moved forward to accept his challenge pulling Ian’s arm a bit till they're nearly touching noses. Ian lefts out a slow, warm breath making him feel his own catch in his throat in response. They were so close. Ian’s beautiful green eyes were ripping through all his walls all over again. His breath felt so good against his face. It’d be so easy to-

Mickey pulls back. He drops Ian’s hand and stands up, swallowing hard and avoiding eye contact with that fucking redhead that always made him lose his shit. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let himself fall down the rabbit hole only for Ian to dig it deeper again. He had a life now. Had to be here for Yevgeny. He couldn’t let these old feelings come back. He knew once they did they wouldn’t go away. He’d be destroyed all over again.

“I’m, uh….I’m gonna go to bed.” He poked his thumb towards the guest room before wiping at his face with a sniff. Of course, he didn’t miss the look of shocked disappointment all over Ian’s face as he retreated.

Idiot.


	11. Exes and Ohs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard feelings and hard truths. An outsider steps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: LGBT slurs and child illness

The hall felt too small. The more Mickey moved up and down the space the closer the walls seemed to move, the stronger the smell of disinfectant. Were the fluorescents getting brighter? He had already stripped down to the tight black t-shirt he had under his flannel and jacket but he was still sweating. The entire building felt oppressive and it was becoming hard to breathe.

Yevgeny had had another seizure.

Svetlana had called him so frantic that half of what she had said had been in Russian. The first time he’d ever seen the woman cry had been when Yevgeny couldn’t walk and had collapsed against him after an intensive chemo treatment. So, when she had broken down against his chest the second he had walked into the room, he knew it was bad. Something had gone awry with one of his treatments and now they were running test after test to figure out which one it was. He had managed to convince Svet to go when the Dr. had said there was only room for one parent.

Now he’s here, nearly choking on the air around him and pacing like if he stopped his heart would too. He was so worked up he didn’t notice gangly legs and red hair rush towards him.

“I just got off work and saw Mandy’s text. What happened?”

Mick froze and turned quickly, brows falling into a defensive scowl. “Fuckin’ seizure. Reacted bad to somethin’ and his body fuckin’ shut off instead of fighting it.” He started pacing again everything telling him this was from the transfusion. That somehow, even when trying to save his life, he was still fucking his kid over.

“Fuck.” Ian breathed behind him. He was quiet for a moment before he grabbed Mickey’s wrist, forcing him to stop.”This isn’t your fault, Mickey. He’s going to be okay, okay?”

For some reason all that did was spike his anger to new levels. Yanking his hand back like he’d been burned, he nearly growled at the redhead, “Fuck off with that shit. Things aren’t always happening in that fuckin’ fantasy world you live in. Shit doesn’t always end in sunshine and rainbows.”

For some sick reason he felt satisfied when Ian looked like he’d been slapped. Quickly his face turned dark and that stubborn set of his jaw came into place. He was going to fight. Good.

“You know what? Fuck you, Milkovich. I came here to fucking see if he was okay. If you were okay! Don’t you fucking stand there and turn your anger on me. This isn’t fucking on me.”

Mickey snorts and gives a roll of his eyes before crossing his arms tight. “No? Sure as fuck sounds like you want it about you, though.” Ian opened and closed his mouth like a fish. For some reason it just spurred Mickey on, “Don’t you get it? I don’t fuckin’ want you here. You brought him in. Cool, thanks for doing your job and service and all that shit. Now stop. You bailed on him just as soon as you bailed on me. You have no fucking right to know if he’s okay. You think it helps? Seeing some guy worry about him that acted like a fucking dad to him once upon a time? Think it helps me?” He glared daggers towards Ian. Could feel a heat in his eyes as they started to burn. He didn’t even know he had held this all in.

Ian stepped closer, “MIck…”

Mickey jerked back, same as how he would if Ian tried to kiss him in public, the way he had when Ian tried kissing him at the border. “No. Grow up, Gallagher. Get out of that fucking fantasy world of yours. Tell me when you’re in reality.” He turned to stalk off again but Ian grabbed him.

With a twist of his arm, he was quickly pinned face first against the wall. Just barely turning his head so he didn’t crush his nose the next thing he saw was Ian’s other arm pressing against his shoulders and jaw as he leaned his weight in to pin him there. His voice was dark when he spoke to him. “You don’t get to do this, Mickey. You’re not going to pull out all the things that piss you off because you’re scared. I fucked up. I know I fucked up and I’ll own that. If you want me out of your life after Yevgeny’s healthy enough he’s not in the hospital fine. I’ll just go back to being Mandy’s friend and learn to see you as nothing but her brother. But you don’t get to tell me this is my illness. You don’t get to fucking tell me I have no right to know what’s happening to my best friend’s nephew.”

Mickey struggled until Ian was speaking. When the whispered, well contained rage reached his ear he felt all the fight leave him. He just felt his body sag and soon after he felt his face follow. Felt sadness, hurt and even regret take him over. Ian must have seen the mood swing because his face popped into a look of shock. His arm loosened right as a Dr. walked up to them looking both frustrated and suspicious.

“What’s happening here?” He crossed his arms tight looking ready to toss both the men to the curb. That familiar look given to south siders all over his face. “Do I need to call security?”

Ian dropped his arm and stepped back, “We’re fine. Just...had a heated discussion.” He glared down towards the floor looking like he was trying not to deck the doctor for his tone.

Mickey stepped from the wall and straightened his shirt before glaring at the newcomer, that old thuggish attitude flaring up from the look he was giving them. “We’re fuckin’ fine, Doc. My kid’s dyin’ and like a normal fuckin’ dad I freaked. You can go back to shoving thermometers in asses now.” He crossed his arms and snorted a laugh when the huffy lab coat walked away. Without looking he addressed the man still taking up issue with the linoleum, “We’re done. Got it? I can’t fuckin’ go in circles with you anymore. If you’re that worried, call Mandy. I can’t be around you. You’re fuckin’ poison, man.”

He walked away quickly. He needed to get away from Ian before he could hear the response. He knew it was a low blow, calling him the same thing his mother was always compared to, but he couldn’t get his head right around him. He couldn’t stay focused.

Fuck, he needed a smoke.  
_____

Hours later Ian was still laying in his bed staring at the wall.

He barely remembered getting on the L let alone his ride back to his apartment complex. All he remembered and could still hear, was his phone going off every few minutes. A text coming through between every third call. He wondered if it was Sue. Maybe she needed him at work. Maybe Trevor? They had become friends as of late. Could be Lip even.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he left it ringing in his uniform jacket on the floor by his shoes. All he could hear was Mickey’s voice telling him he was toxic, poison...not someone he could be around and survive. The man he loved more than anything saw him as danger. He never even called his abusive fuck of a dad something that strong. Just Ian. Only Ian.

He couldn’t get his body to move. He couldn’t feel the tears drying tight on his face as he stared straight ahead, didn’t even realize that he had been crying.

All he could feel was the room caving in on him oppressively. He could feel his heart beating heavy and sluggish in his chest. He could feel Mickey’s words cutting into him like he’s reliving the impact on repeat. A pounding ringing in his ears started up and grew louder and louder, more frantic. Like an underwater feature in an aquarium, the knocking there to remind him he’s alive. Remind him he’s trapped.

The banging became harsher the more he tried to ignore it. Loud enough now that he found himself begging it to stop. His voice weak and fragile as he whispered into the void of his apartment.

As soon as the pounding started it stopped. The next thing he registered was a brunette whirlwind crashing into his room and directly into his bedside. Hands were grabbing at him and he just curled up tighter. Fetal position the only defense he could find against the yanking. But, just like his mind, his body had grown too weak and he was tugged upright.

Now he was staring into warm brown eyes, big and bambi-like behind a mop of wild chocolate curls. Trevor.

The look of worry on the doe eyed boy had Ian snapping his attention a little more into focus.

“I’ve been calling for over two hours, Ian, Jesus. What happened?” He started almost instinctively checking wrists and the creases of Ian’s arms. Instinct after years of working with shelter kids.

Ian pulled his arms away gently and let his hands fall heavily into his lap.” ‘M fine.” He looked over his ex’s face. “Seriously. I just had a….had a talk with Mickey ‘sall.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the name. “What’d he do?” He said it so flatly it came out more like a statement. Ian knew his opinion of Mickey. Knew how he had painted him in the light of the South Side con that escaped prison. How he had tried so hard to convince himself that he was truly better off without the gentlest thug Chicago had ever seen. Only it failed. He only convinced everyone else.

“Nothing…” he looked down to his hands, unable to keep eye contact now that the words had sunk in. Now that he realized the damage he had done. “We just talked. He told me how he felt. Told me he was done.”

Trevor scoffed and crossed his arms stubbornly. “That wouldn’t make you slip into a low that suddenly, Ian, and you know it. The fuck did he say?”

“Said….said I was poison.” He looked back up to Trevor, the hurt clear all over his face. He could feel his eyes burning which only added to his frustration as he scrubbed harshly at his eyes. He laughed bitterly, “Guess I really am just like Monica.”

Trevor melted and moved closer. Wrapping his arms around Ian, he kissed his temple as he pulled him down to lay back into the pillows. “You’re not. Your mom was abusive, neglective and a manipulative liar. You care so much about everyone. You care about him. Dunno why, but you do. I mean hell, you ran off to Mexico with the guy. Bailed on your whole life for a week.” He started rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Ian shook his head and curled deep into Trevors chest. “I abandoned him at the border. Fuckin’ said I’d go with him then bailed. I…” He just shook his head. He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit how it was the first time he had ever told Mickey he loved him. How he had always just expected Mickey to know. Like the kid who was abused his entire life and hated by his entire hometown could ever get that someone could love him. That it was even possible for someone like him. How Ian had been maybe one of a handful of people to ever say those words to him. Why would he ever think he meant them?

Trevor just held him. There wasn’t much he could say. He knew that they had been together for years, but Ian hadn’t told him much about the guy. Tried to keep that past locked up tight and hidden away. Seeing now how the man could affect him, he understood why.

\------------

Trevor walked into the hospital early the next day. He knew he probably shouldn’t be doing this but he was angry enough not to care. He needed to figure out who the hell this guy was and exactly why he felt it was okay to say such hurtful things towards the beautiful man that connected them.

After asking for the general area he stepped out of the elevator to the childhood cancer ward and moved into the waiting room. He’d met Mandy once or twice so when he saw her standing by a tall, lean woman and a blonde man sitting in a chair, he knew he was in the right place.

He walked up stubbornly and gave Mandy a nod of greeting before turning toward the guy leaning over his knees and crossed his arms tightly over his thin chest. “You Mickey?”

Mickey looked up with weary blue eyes and instant straightened his shoulders defensively. “Who the fucks askin’?” He snapped out, that south side attitude dripping in his voice.

Good. Ian described the dick right. “My names Trevor. I want to have a talk with you. You hurt my friend and I’m not okay with that.”

Mickey stood and Trevor would be lying if he said he didn’t get some sick satisfaction out of the fact that they were the exact same height. “I haven't been anywhere but this hospital so you can fuck right off.”

“Ian Gallagher.” Trevor glared and a smirk hit his lips when a flash of understanding came over Mickey’s face. “He hit a low last night. Worst one I’ve seen in a long time. He couldn’t even tell that I was there until I shook him.” He stepped closer, “You know what this low and the last one have in common? You.”

Mickey opened his mouth to speak when one of the women stepped up. To Trevor’s surprise it wasn’t the hot headed Milkovich he expected. Instead it was a woman who stood over all of them and had a tone as intimidating as her demeanor. “Leave. He has to be father. Not his fault he removed distraction. Remove yourself or I’ll remove you.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes dangerously.

Mickey stepped forward his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay, Lana.” He turned towards Trevor, “Look, my kids sick and we’re all stressed enough. Let’s go talk in the cafeteria. But you give me shit or start something and I’ll put you in the ground. My son comes first right now, got it?”

Trevor ignored the flash of anger in his chest. The guy was trying to be a good dad and everything in his years with shelter kids kept him from being able to find fault in that. He agreed with a nod and headed to the elevators.

_______

Sitting across from him at a table Trevor can see the appeal Mickey has. The guy’s gorgeous. He’s got the bluest eyes, full lips, high cheekbones and seriously? How the hell does someone that’s had to fight his entire life have that straight of a nose? 

Taking a sip of the coffee Mickey got him, Trevor finally gets to the point. “Poison? Really? Look, I know Ian’s not always the most stable guy but did you really have to hit him with such a low blow?”

Mickey sighs and sets his drink down but leans back with his hands still on it. “Look man, Ian and I? We have history. Trust me, more than he’s told you about. I know he comes across as an open book but he’s fuckin’ not. You seem smart so I’ma guess you know that.” He scratches slightly at the side of his nose before continuing. “I’m not fuckin’ perfect so I know I hurt the guy. Fuckin’ regularly actually but, man, he doesn’t even fuckin’ consider the shit he’s put me through. And before you say it, I ain’t talkin’ bout his Bipolar. Ain’t gonna blame him for shit he did ‘cause he’s sick. That’s like blamin’’ my kid for pukin’ on me. ‘S fuckin’ pointless.”

Trevor hums a bit in agreement as he looks this guy over. He’s got the mouth of a sailor but, his point is kind and sincere. This isn’t at all what he expected the imprisoned thug to be like. He never would have expected a kid raised the way Ian had vaguely described to ever wind up this way- gentle hearted and focused on being a parent.

“I get that. But c’mon. You know you brought up shit that hurts him deeper than everything else. I’m sure you did too since you guys grew up together, but I met his mother. I made the mistake of telling him to get over it because she apologized. I didn’t realize just how much she’d fucked with his head. More than his siblings if you ask me.” He looks down to his hands picking at his cup a tiny bit. “I know how much he gave a shit about you.” He laughs in a breathless sort of way, still stinging just a tiny bit from how Ian and his attempt of dating went. “I mean...he fuckin’ bailed on me to run off to the border with you. Promised me he was with me and wasn’t gonna get involved, but we both knew. I fuckin’ started fallin’ for him but he loved you. Always had. Pretty sure he still does.” He looks up towards the blue eyed man and sees a look of recognition flash over his face.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes out slow through his nose before looking back to him. “You’re the boyfriend.”

“Was.”

Mickey nods and downs what’s left of the water they call coffee. “Yeah. He told me he had a boyfriend. I asked him why he was with me then. He…” Mickey looks away. “Look. I’m sorry okay? I’m a lot of shitty things but I ain’t a homewrecker. I was fuckin’ desperate. I was alone, fuckin’ scared and Ian was the only fuckin’ thing I had.” He looks to Trevor. “I can tell you ain’t Southside, but’cha seem to get how it works there. So lemme just tell ya that my family? We’re more like a fuckin’ gang than a family. Ian was the only person I ever had in my fuckin’ life that even cared if I got shot, arrested or even fuckin’ woke up in the mornin’.”

Trevor nods slowly before smiling in a crooked, slightly bitter way. “Wasn’t ever mad at you. Just couldn’t trust him. We’re better as friends anyways.” Now it’s his turn to look away. “But, look, I get that i don’t know all your history and I know you’ve got a sick kid and trust me, I work with fuckin’ shelter kids, you need to keep putting him first, but Ian’s not gonna hurt you this time. The second he saw you again he came to my place freaking out. You’re like the only good thing the guy’s able of pointing out in his life. Said more than once you were the only right decision he ever made.”

Mickey interrupts with a bitter snort. “That why he bailed last second? Why he said he’d go with me then the second we’re in the home stretch thinks it’s the perfect fuckin’ time to tell me he loves me for the first time? Fuckin’ hell man, you prolly hear it all the time, but I don’t okay? Last person to tell me they loved me? My fuckin’ mother. She died when I was still losing teeth. And not from gettin’ punched. He’d never said it to me before that either despite all the shit I fuckin’ gave up for him. I didn’t need him to say it but when he did it felt like a fuckin’ bullet wound. I get that I was askin’ him to fuckin’ leave everything. I expected him to say no. Expected for me to have to say goodbye. But, he fuckin’ strung me along. That’s what hurt.”

Trevor nods. “I get it, okay? I mean hell I’m a trans guy from the midwest. It’s not like I’ve always had tender loving care.” He makes eye contact with him. “But, I was here after you left. I saw Ian these past two years. I’m guessin’ with the uniform, him regularly takin’ his meds and all that shit he toldja he had his shit together?” When Mickey gave a slight nod Trevor continued, “Yeah, well, he didn’t. He came back and fell the fuck apart all over again. His mom dying destroyed him and I think you bein’ gone had a huge part of it too, even if he wouldn’t say it. Y’know I didn’t even know your name until the officer came to his house askin’ about you? Even after he told me he had been with you he stopped using your name. It was like if he said it he’d break. I’ve been trained to work with sick kids. I know what avoidance looks like. I know when people ignore their mental health and focus on something else. I mean, he obsessively used my kids as a way to feud with his sister. Went far enough to get authorities involved. That’s not Ian. Least not the one I know.”

Mickey’s eyes go a little wide. “He...fuck.” He turned away again and pinches the bridge of his nose looking so pained at the thought. “That’s the shit he does when he’s manic. Saw him like that before.” He turns back to Trevor. “It’s fuckin’ scary.”

Trevor nods. “I think that’s why he couldn’t go. He got better by luck. He wasn’t even actually better. Just got some relief y’know?” He smiles weakly. “I love Ian okay? Love him way more than I wish I did but because I love him? I can tell when he’s in love. Mickey, he loves you. You can believe whatever you want, but it’s true. I’m not sayin’ you need to get back together.” He grins in an almost self-deprecating way. “Honestly, I wish you guys hated each other because I might actually have a chance in hell. But, s’long as you’re alive he’s only gonna be able to love you. So even if you gotta put him in my place, have him be your friend, let him love you. You and I both know he will help you through this shit with your kid. I’ve never had a sick child or had to run out of the country to be able to have a life, but he’s been with me through my shit. My shit’s more internal. Havin’ the wrong body and shit. Having to take hormones get surgeries and shit for half my life just to be a guy. He still stuck by me. Didn’t fuckin’ know what Transgender was and even put up with me when I called him a faggot when he made a comment about it.” He shakes his head with a real smile on his face. “Shoulda known a kid from his background wouldn’t have any fuckin’ idea what I was.”

Mickey frowns. “Transgen- so like a Tranny?” When he sees Trevor’s face he puts his hands up. “Look man I dunno what the fuck terms are what. Got a sister with a dick, though. Guessin’ you’re sayin’ yer like that. Dude with a vagina.”

Trevor huffs a laugh despite himself. This guy is vulgar and uneducated as hell but damn if he isn’t well meaning. “Basically yeah. But, I like to pretend that’s not that. Got myself dicks in all sorts of sizes. But, that’s not the point.”

Mickey nods in slow understanding. “Cool. Glad ya got to chop off your tits and get your dick.” he gives a slight, genuine thumbs up and Trevor can’t help but laugh that time. “I get it though, okay? Trust me. I fuckin’ love him with everything I am. I would- and have taken a bullet and beating for the guy. But, I gotta be a dad right now. I don’t know how to do this shit and it’s taking all my focus. I’ll apologize though. Ain’t fuckin’ good at it but I’ll talk to him if ya think he’ll listen.”

Trevor stands up, “That’s all I can ask from you. I gotta get to work but thanks for talkin’ to me. I know I’m probably not who you wanted to meet. But, uh...if it’s cool...keep me posted on your kid okay? I met him a couple time when we hung out with your sister. He’s seriously one of the best lil’ guys.” He smiles genuinely and puts a hand out for Mickey to shake.

Mickey stands as he grips Trevors hand and gives it a friendly squeeze. “Yev’s good at stealin’ hearts like that.” He smiles a bit. “Kinda blame the years Ian helped raise him.”

Trevor grins and nods as he starts to head out. “That’d make sense. I’ll see ya’” He finally turns away but only makes it a few steps.

Mickey scratches nervously at his face before speaking up, “Trevor?” When the guy turns around he keeps eye contact. This needs to be said. “I’m glad Ian met you. He needs people like you. People who give a shit.”

Trevor smiles bright, happy and crooked. “Glad he has you too, Mickey.”

Mickey stands there looking where Trevor vanished through the exit of the cafe for a long moment. That conversation was all levels of awkward but he knew the guy was right.

He still loved that stupid red headed Gallagher.


	12. Kisses and Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is super short. I would have made it longer but it felt right where it ended. It's going to be the tie chapter to get things snowballing forward.
> 
> I hope y'all are still enjoying this.

A couple days later, once they all find out that Yevgeny’s seizure was caused by an antibiotic and a fluke, Mickey’s sitting in Mandy’s living room when he finally finds the courage to call Ian.

He sits there rubbing at his eyes and letting a sigh out through his nose as he listens to the phone ring. He’s just about to hang up when that deep voice hit his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey…”

“Mickey?” Ian sounds surprised and it causes Mickey to smile bitterly.

“You busy? I uh...I wanna talk.”

Ian’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Yeah uh, No. I mean no, I’m not busy. Just took my night meds though so my hands are shakin’, sorry. You uh, you wanna talk in person? You can come over...I uh...if you want.”

Mick looks around the space of his sister’s living room. Seeing Ian would probably help. “Yeah,uh...I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Okay…”

Mickey hangs up and sighs in a growl as he shoves his palms against his eyes. He’s so bad at this.  
_______

After a quick ride on the L and a brief walk in the cold Mickey’s knocking on Ian’s door. The redhead pulls it open with a “Hey.” For a long moment they just stand there staring at each other. So many emotions were flowing over each other’s faces. All shifting so quickly it seemed like they were watching an entire movie seen on fast forward.

Finally, Ian steps to the side and Mickey steps into the apartment.

They speak at the same time. 

“Lemme take your coat.”

“I’m sorry.”

They freeze and look at eachother.

With a lick to his lips, Mickey find his voice first. “I’m sorry.” He forces himself to keep firm eye contact. “What I said...Fuck man, that wasn’t fuckin’ fair of me. I was angry. So fuckin’ pissed that my son’s suffering and there’s nothin’ I can fuckin’ do. You’re right. I took it out on you.” He looks to the side and wipes at his nose with a sniff. “Your friend came to see me. Trevor? Seems nice enough. Kinda faggy but nice.” He grins a bit at his own teasing and looks back to Ian. “Fucker read me like a book. Pointed out shit I didn’t even wanna admit. I think..fuck it...I know I still love you. I’ve loved you since your stupid fifteen year old ass came to see me in Juvie after that towel-head fucked up my leg. But, I’m fuckin’ scared man. Every time...every time I’ve let myself love someone they’ve bailed on me. They bail and I fall the fuck apart. With Yev right now I just can’t risk that shit. It took me too long to even be able to function again after I reached Mexico. I fuckin’ gave up.” He looks down now, ashamed of his own weakness. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t abandon him like my dad always did me.”

Ian stayed quiet for a long moment before he stepped close. He opened his mouth to respond but when Mickey looked up to him he could see the mental “Fuck it” rush across his eyes and just as quick as it always happened before…

Ian was kissing him.

They pressed close as Ian gripped his face tight. His lips were rough and chapped but still so fucking soft. So warm and goddamn how he’s missed this. Missed the way Ian works his mouth against his. The way his stomach knots up and how warm and secure Ian’s big hands feel on his cheeks. The way it feels when his hands rest on Ian’s narrow hips and tug him closer.

Ian pulls back after a moment to get air. Their lips parting in that perfect movie stick. Eyes flutter open to meet when Ian finds his voice again. “Fuck I’ve missed that...missed you.” He runs his thumb gently over Mickey’s cheekbone. The only response the shorter man was able to give being another press of their lips, his hand gripping the back of his neck tightly.

Ian started to walk backwards pulling Mickey close to his body as he heads towards his bedroom. Mickey follows eagerly working his mouth with Ian’s as though that were the only way he’d be able to keep breathing. Once Ian’s knees hit the edge of his bed he sat down and pulled Mickey into his lap, gripping the backs of those muscular thighs he could spend hours or years worshipping, he settles the blonde in a straddle. Mickey breathed out an airy laugh against his lips, totally calling him out for his hands searching his favorite part of this man.

Keeping their mouths attached Mickey moves to arch more against him, sliding a hand down Ian’s leg as though he were dancing on him. He couldn’t help the grin when he felt Ian’s breathing hitch. He nipped at his jaw then down his neck a bit, laving at his pulse point and revelling in al the sounds and jerks Ian gives him in response. Nothing has ever been as heady as his ability to bring this man apart beneath him. Not even the strongest drug or richest booze could compare. He was completely intoxicated by Ian Gallagher.

“Off.” Ian whispers the command as he grips the bottom of Mickey’s shirt, his breath heavy and hot against his face.

Mickey pulls the shirt off and can’t help the smirk at the look on Ian’s face as he tosses it to the side. The way the green eyes rove over his body causes his skin to heat up and all he wants to do is just strip Ian and get on this.

“Just give me a minute.” Ian whispers as his hands reverently slide up the now revealed skin. The hard muscle more defined than when they had been young. Mickey was still soft around his hips and stomach, but not in the way he has been when they were children. His always impressive shoulders and arms had become even stronger from the work he does and the ink sliding over half over one forearm, covering the other and curling over his left pectoral had Ian going weak. It was a good thing he was sitting. Mickey was a sight to behold. He’d always found the Milkovich-well Olensky now- to be beautiful like fine art but now it was like something new all together. He couldn’t stop himself from laving at his collarbone as he moved them so Mickey’s back was now pressed against the cool sheets of his bed and he could kiss and mouth over his skin. His brain was nothing but fuzz and Mickey, Mickey, Mickey.

Mickey arched his back and slid his hand into Ian’s red curls. “Take it you like what you see?” He looks over him with heavily lidded eyes, giving his hair a tug of approval as Ian mouths and bites gently down his chest and ribs. His breath catches, however, when Ian’s lips stop right at the bottom of his ribs. He feels himself go still as Ian pulls back and runs his thumb over the raised skin. He’s just about to tell him it’s nothing, distract him by pulling Ian’s hips to his own in a grind, when Ian flips on the bedside lamp.

The dim, orange-gold light fills the small room and shines over their bodies, amplifying just how exposed Mickey is under Ian. Ian runs his fingertip over the scar as he thinks. The scar is old, nearly the same color as the rest of his skin. The only thing making it show being the keloid and way it’s somehow even paler than the rest of the Ukrainian’s skin. He tried to remember having seen this before but when Mickey grabbed his hand gently and their eyes met he knew he hadn’t. Remembered how everything had been so heated and rushed that week they spent racing to the border. So rushed Mickey hadn’t been able to get naked with him at any point. Those first couple days he hadn’t even been able to shower. Had even kept a hat on over his long dirty hair.

“What’s this?” Ian whispers when he finally finds his voice.

Mickey sits up on his elbows and looks at the scar then back to Ian. “S’why I busted out man.”

Ian’s breath catches and he looks to his face again. Green eyes filled with some sort of pain and regret as he asked, “You...fuck Mickey...what happened? I...I never asked.”

Mickey pulls himself the rest of the way up and shrugs slightly. “My old man got transferred to the same prison. I tried to stay away from him. Keep my head down, do my time and get out. But, he didn’t like that and decided I’d make a fun pinata in the showers one night. Got fuckin’ lucky a guard got called ‘cause two guys started fuckin’ in another stall. Woke up in the infirmary ‘bout three days later with stitches and a staph infection.” 

Ian’s lips trembled before he locked it into that stubbornly stiff jaw but his eyes stayed wet. “Three days? You...fuck Mickey that’s… I’ve picked up kids dyin’ from that shit before.” He slid his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling clearly trying to calm himself down. 

Mickey gave him all the time he needed before sliding his hand over his cheek and holds his face as he presses a kiss to his jaw and then his lips. “I’m fine. I made it just fine. But, I had to get out man. We both know he’d never let me get out of there alive or at least not walking.”

Ian holds him close, cradling his face as their foreheads rest together. “You coulda died, Mick. You coulda died and I wouldn’t have known. I never would’ve known.” His hands shake against his cheeks and Mickey reaches up to hold them still.

“Would’ve if you woulda visited. But, that shit’s not on you. Fuckin’ went over it. Already punched ya for it.” He grins weakly, trying to lighten the mood. “I can’t hold shit against ya anymore. Sick of hurting.”

Ian kisses him deep and hard. He needed to get him to know exactly how he felt. How grateful he was for this man. “I owe you an explanation. Fuck.. I...I never even told you why I bailed at the last possible moment. Just left you...left you alone, again.”

Mick places his fingers gently over Ian’s lips to quiet him and just looks up to him with raw eyes. “Later okay? I...I should go. I think….I think we both need to think through some stuff.” He grabs his shirt and pulls it on. He looks back to Ian once he reaches his bedroom door, his hand on the doorway. “I’m not mad, okay? I just gotta work through shit. Things are….things are a lot right now. Between Yevgeny, our new lives….us.” He looks to the ground. “I need to decide what’s going to be best for us. For my kid. For me.” He looks back to Ian again. “I’m sorry, Ian. I just gotta put me first this time.”

Ian stood and walked over to him. He ran his hand through his hair gently and pecked his lips one last time. “I’ll step back. Let you deal with this. Just...I’m here okay? Let me be here.”  
Mickey nods his agreement before he walked out. 

If he heard that raspy, emotional “I love you.” follow him out the door, he pretended not to.


	13. Mikey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Yevgeny and Mickey grow closer amd Yevgeny grows healthier the boys seek out advice from two of their favorite girls. Ian learns more about Mickey's imprisonment and Mickey comes to find how his son sees him.

Mickey was leaning back against the headboard of his sisters bed with her laptop on his knees. He had a skype call ringing away since his non-trackable flip phone wouldn’t cut it. Yevgeny was going through a day of rest today at the hospital and Svetlana had the morning shift, giving him the time to call back home to try and see how things were going.

He couldn’t help but grin when his favorite mouthy Mexican came onto the screen. “Hola Mig. What’s up? How’s the offspring?” Marina asked in her thick accent as she flopped back on the hammock she had in her backyard, the sun on her brown skin making her almost glow and bringing out the green in her bright hazel eyes.

“Hey Mina. He’s doin’ good. Had a fallback with a seizure from some stupid medication, but he’s starting to get back on his feet. He seems to be taking well to the transfusion. I’ve been helping him with physical therapy and he’s able to walk the room if I got his hand now. Can go even further with those arm crutch things.”

Marina nods, taking it all in seriously but has a gentle smile on her full lips. She may not want her own children anytime soon but she loved hearing her friend talk about his son. “He sounds like he’s doing good. I’m glad you were able to get there.” She moved a bit back into the pillows before speaking again. “You run into Pelirrojo?” Her face was a bit more serious. She didn’t often bring up Mickey dating or his past. The most he’d get from her would be some joke about a hot guy or him pretending to be gay to hide his undying love for her. It was rare Marina got serious, but when she was she was fiercely protective of him. She was his platonic soulmate. He loved her and she loved him and they showed it through sibling like teasing and keeping tabs.

Mickey sighed and gave her a nod. “Yeah. Fuckin’ ran into him at the hospital. He and I had dinner an’ talked a bit, then I stayed at his place. In another room. Don’t give me that look, you chola bitch.” He gave the weakest glare to Marina’s cackling on the other end. “Fucker kissed me though. Nearly banged too.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair “I can never keep my shit together around him. I’m fuckin’ terrified of him, man. You saw me when I first reached Loreto. I can’t survive falling apart like that again and right now I gotta be here for Yev, y’know?”

Marina gave a noncommittal hum, “Mig, I’m sayin’ this with all the love I have for you in my heart okay? You spend all your time at that hospital with that kid. Yevgeny knows you’re there for him. He fuckin’ knows, okay? You’ll have to come back here eventually and you gotta decide if you’re willin’ to give up shit for yourself to be happy. Stop being la perra. Grow a fuckin’ pair.”

Mickey blinked. “You think I can really do that? You think he...fuck Marina you saw how I was.”

Marina nods slowly. “You’re right, I did. If I gotta bring my ass to the state for the first time so you can sit on good dick, and sit on it happily, you best fuckin’ believe I will, Puta.” She smiles playfully. But, despite the goofy grin, he knew she was dead fuckin’ serious. He told her he needed her there? She’d be on the next flight to Chicago. 

“I’d love for you to come. Have you meet my boy. But, really Mina, I gotta be careful here. Ian makes me take risks. I can’t afford takin’ many right now. I don’t know how to handle this shit. I don’t know how to get this fixed. If it even can be. I mean, fuck, he stopped from bangin’ me cause he finally saw the scar my old man gave me. Fuckin’ finally told him why I ran. I’m a mess. He’s got his shit together. He was right when he bailed. I’d ruin that for him.”

“Okay, shut the fuck up with that noise, Tonto. You’ve pulled yourself up and cleaned yourself off. I fuckin’ grew up in the cartel life. You know the family I came from. So if I say you fuckin’ impress me by the shit you drug yourself out of, you get no fuckin’ right to tell me you didn’t pull some amazing shit okay? Now you need to fuckin’ talk to that asshole. If I don’t get to make fun of him for burnin’ like his hair at least one I’ma be pissed. Ain’t never seen an asshole paler than you. Fuckin’ alien lookin’.” She smiled affectionately towards him.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll talk to him. Ain’t fuckin’ good at talkin’ but I’ll try.” He looked at her almost guiltily. Letting the conversation move on to catching up on work and Marina’s life. He needed his friend with him. He needed his son healthy. He needed his life stable. And now he knows, he needs Ian Fucking Gallagher.

________

Ian was coming back from therapy exhausted. They had worked through his issues with Mickey and how he should be handling this. He was lucky as all hell his therapist wasn’t going to turn in the ex-convict. He knew that finding someone who had so much trust in her patients was rare, but she did. She really believed Ian when he told her things or let her in to his life. She had grown up on the east border of the south side. She hadn’t had to scrape and claw her way to a new life, to survival, quite as hard as he and Mickey had. As hard as their families had, but she had been around it enough to know the culture. She understood the pain of that life and the primal need for trust. So, he told her. Everything. Now, though, he was so emotionally tired that he just wanted to sit on the porch in the cold fall air and be in the quiet. He should probably call Trevor. Ask him why he went to Mickey. But, despite knowing it most likely started with Trev getting shitty with his ex, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad. Trevor was a good friend. A great one, if he was being honest.Still, though, he needed to talk to the guy. At least thank him for giving a fuck.

He sat down on the porch and put his face in his hands with a sigh. He didn’t know how long he sat there like that but, a while later he heard the door open and then there was tiny hands and a chubby body climbing over his legs as he heard his sister’s tell tale sigh as she next to him.

He sat back, pulling his beautiful niece into his lap, and kissed her bright orange hair. “Hey Franny.” He smiled down to the large baby that made a cooing sound and papped her slightly sticky hands against his cheeks in greeting. Why were toddlers always sticky?

“Sorry. She saw you sitting out here. Opened the door with Liam's grabber toy. I swear she becomes a fuckin’ ninja whenever she sees you.” Debbie smiled gently and wiped a bit of drool and crumbs from the corner of her daughters mouth with so much love.

Ian smiled and bounced little Franny slightly in his lap before turning to his sister, “S’okay. Love her. She’s a lot like you were y’know. Looks a lot like you too.” HE smiled back down towards his niece who know had busied herself by playing with the hem of his sleeve.

“Poor girl ended up with our red hair. Could’ve been blond like Monica, Frank or lip or had the dark features of Fi and Carl, but no, she got our freckle faced curse.” She grinned up to her big brother. Debbie had always looked up to Ian. They had always been extremely close, Ian having always catered to his younger sibling as though they were his own children just like Fiona had for him and for them. They had grown distant with his diagnosis, her having franny and his medications taking years to stabilize. Years even after he thought he had his shit together when he took a certain thug to the border.

“Makes her special. She can never deny us.” He grins brightly over to her. Reveling in the smile Debbie sends back his way, he’s starting to finally relax again.

“You doin’ okay?” Debbie kept her big brown eyes fixed on him now. “I know Mickey’s back. You don’t come by the house often just because, and trust me, I know its family dinner night and were all meant to be here, but still. I can tell when you’re struggling.”

Ian blinked before sighing and adjusting Franny in his arms, settling her more firmly in his lap in a way to feel more secure. “I still love him, Debs. I can’t get him out of my head. All I want is him. I liked Trevor, liked him a lot, and I love him as my friend but he ain’t Mick. No matter what I do I can’t get him off my mind. It’s like part of me’s missin’ when he’s not here.” he nuzzled into Franny’s hair for a moment before continuing, “I fucked up. I fuckin’ hurt him so much. I abandoned him, treated him like shit. I let Monica get in my head and convince me he was no better than Frank. Fuckin’ Frank. Mickey’s the best, kindest guy I’ve ever fuckin’ met and I believed her, believed my illness. I actually fuckin’ punched him for giving a shit. I became that guy.”

Debbie listened with her brows curved and lips parted a bit as she listened. She looked forward and nodded as she listened and soaked in her brother’s words. “You’re right… You did fuck up. But, you weren’t the only one, Ian. Think you might not know but, when you got back from the hospital-flushed all your meds- it was me that went to get Mickey. He was a mess. Drunk and butt fuckin’ naked playing guitar. He came though. When he did I knew you got lucky. You got luckier than all of us and actually found a good one. I thought Lip was gonna be the only one with Mandy but he fucked that up real quick. Pulled a fuckin’ Derek on her.” She smiled a little bitterly at the thought of her baby daddy. “It was my idea too. To get back at Sammi. That was me. I was the one that gave her the drink with the roofies. I was the one that got the car battery. All Mickey did was help me come up with the plan, helped get her in the back of that truck so I wouldn’t get caught. He didn’t even mention me being there when he got taken in. I saw the report. He told them I had gone out to be with friends that night. Said I didn’t know a damn thing. That I was just with him to pick you up and that was it.” She shook her head. “He didn’t put me away, He would’ve had so much less of a sentence. I would’ve only gone to juvie and had a record, but he didn’t. He’s too loyal.”

Ian looked at her in shock, his eyes filled with wet. “He...he protected you? Fuck….fuck I...I fuckin’ told him he was trash. Fuckin’ made it seem like he really was just a murderer and all he did was try and defend me and protect my sister. Fuck.” He looked up towards the sky as he blinked away tears.

Debbie leaned her head against his shoulder. “I think you should try, Ian. I know I’m young and Franny’s proof that I’m not the best at relationships, but you found it with him. That thing Kev and V have. I haven't seen someone love that much. I’ll help you if I can. I like Mickey, I always have liked Mickey. More than the rest of our family I think. I like how happy he makes you.. I want you happy, bubby.” She smiled a bit to herself at the use of the old term. “You should try to get him back. If it means you gotta go to Mexico for real this time, I’ll fuckin’ miss you. Miss you like hell, but you’ll have me on your side. You stuck by me. I’m always sticking by you.” She pulled back just enough to look up to Ian and give him a smile.

“Thank you, Debbie.” Ian turned to look at her. “I really want to do this. I wanna do whatever it takes.”

She grinned, bright and cheeky, “Then do it. Go get your man.”  
___________

The next time Ian made it to the hospital he couldn’t help but stop to watch the scene in the little room from the doorway. Mickey was on his knees with his hands lightly cradling Yevgeny’s as the small boy was walking slowly forward. Mickey was shuffling backwards on his knees, despite how there was no way that it was comfortable, keeping his eyes locked with his son’s. A gently, encouraging smile on his full lips as he watched his son move. They eventually made it all the way to the bathroom before Mickey pulled his mini-me into a deep hug, telling his boy how proud he was and how good he did before taking him into the little room.

When the reemerged, Mickey had an exhausted Yevgeny in his arms- resting on his hip, droopy eyed face snuggled into his neck with the arm that still had the attachment for his IVs and chemo treatments hanging loosely around his dad’s broad shoulder. Finally, Mickey glanced up and say Ian. He froze for a moment before giving a slight nod and moving to get Yev into bed, tucking the little guy under the blankets. Walking took so much out of him but Mickey always made sure to keep the boy motivated, keep him as happy and child-like a kid in his situation could be.

Mickey stroked his son’s duck-fuzz like hair that was very slowly starting to come back and smiled a smile of utter adoration with so much warmth Ian could feel it from the door. With Yev nuzzling into his dad’s safe hand and giving a small puppy-yawn, Mickey looked to Ian expectantly.

“Hey.” Ian kept his voice low. Not wanting to disturb the clearly exhausted child. “How’s he doing?”

“Great actually. He’s been getting a lot stronger. Doc’s startin’ to think we could probably take him home soon. We’ll just have to bring him back for treatments or if he gets a fever over one-o-two.” Mickey looked back to his son with that same look.

“That’s great!” Ian’s mood instantly perked up into excitement and he stepped more into the room. 

“Yeah, I wanna do somethin’ special for him. He won’t be up for a party or nothin’ but I wanna get him a gift. Maybe find a movie or some shit for ‘im. Kid loves the ninja turtles. You should hear how excited he gets about ‘em.” He grins and looks up to Ian now. “Wanna go with? I dunno much of what’s around this part of town. Never left the south much.”

Ian felt his heart lurch at the invite and with far too much enthusiasm quickly accepted. “Hell yeah! Absolutely!” He cringed inwardly and gave him a sheepish smile as he looked at him from the other side of the hospital bed.

Mickey only snorted a laugh, clearly understanding Ian’s excitement. “Alright. He’s just got sleeping and getting hydrated today. Once Svet’s off work we can head out.”

Ian could only smile like a kid on Christmas.

______

Hopping off the L, Ian lead Mickey towards a small toyshop right on the edge of the North Side. They were far enough from their hometown that they were mostly in the East Side. The distance let Mickey relax just enough to walk without hiding from or jumping at everything and everyone. 

They entered the store with the little ding of a bell and Mickey even raised his hand in greeting to the old man at the counter that welcomed them in. Ian grinned as he followed the shorter man towards the back of the store wondering the aisles looking for that perfect toy. When he came across a small pouty looking stuffed kitten with big blue eyes he scooped it up into his large hand and spun to face Mickey holding it out with a grin, “It’s you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah Tangerine Bear. High-larious.” He kept his voice bland and sarcastic but the twitch of his mouth told Ian that he thought the idiot was still funny. 

After a bit more of searching Mickey comes over to Ian with with a giant cheesy grin taking over his entire face and holds up a box with a buff humanoid turtle in it. “Look man! It’s his favorite one too! Fuckin’ has a button that’ll spin his arm and shit so he can fight.”

Ian took the box and grinned just as bright when he saw the name of the orange masked character. “Think I know why he likes this one, Mick.” He looks up to him and nearly rolls his eyes at the look of confusion on the man’s face. “His names Michelangelo. He goes by Mikey if you ever watch the show. So y’know...superhero misfit from the slums of New York” He lifts the box for emphasis then motions towards him with it. “Superhero misfit from the slums of Chicago named Mickey. Don’t think it's a coincidence.” 

Mickey scoffs, “Fuck off, man.” He swipes the box back but can’t hide the pause he takes to just look at the box. The look on his face becoming so similar to how he looks at Yevgeny himself while warmth fills his entire being. Just the idea of anyone, let alone the son he adores, thinking him a hero was the best thing he could imagine.

Walking out of the store, Ian finally got some bravery bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want this to end and he didn’t want to drop the fact that Mickey himself had wanted to spend time with him so right before heading towards the stairs to the L he blurted out, “Wanna come home with me?” His face froze up from embarrassment and he rubbed at his neck a bit nervously, “I uh, I mean I can, uh, make us dinner and shit and there's the spare room and..”

Mickey couldn’t help but cut him off with the warm chuckle and stepped closer, “Easy there, Porky Pig, don’t speak stutter.” He slides a hand to the back of Ian’s neck and steps even closer.

This time Mickey was kissing him.

Ian’s eyes widened for a moment before he clamped them shut and gripped his face gently, deepening the kiss further. Mickey smiled into the kiss before finally pressing flat against him and giving his lip a slight nip and tug before stepping back with a cocky, knowing smirk.

As they hurried towards the L, eager to get back to Ian’s apartment, they didn’t notice the large man standing just within earshot with a shocked look of recognition of his face. Had Mickey only looked past Ian’s right shoulder he’d have notice the look on none other than an angry Colin Milkovich.


	14. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian reconnect...literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smut. There is some important emotions/words however. Read at your descretion

They stumble into Ian’s apartment, their lips attached since hitting the last pair of stairs. Ian somehow managed to get his keys out and get the door with Mickey nipping at his throat and working on getting his coat off of him. Once inside Ian kicks the door shut and surprises the smaller man by having him up by his hips, giving him no choice but to wrap his legs around him as Ian pressed him against the nearest wall.

“You’re such an ass.” Mickey chuckles breathlessly against Ian’s lips as he grips his hair and neck, only pretending to be insulted by the manhandling.

Ian returns the laugh, but it quickly turns into a full on groan as Mickey uses the new angle to get back at him with a sharp grind of his hips. “Jesus, Mick. Fuck, just like that.” He lets his head drop forward against Mickey’s shoulder as he rocks back up to meet each thrust always losing himself and growing submissive to him if Mickey doesn’t immediately turn it to a power play.

“Like that, boy?” Mick breathes hot in his ear before nipping at it. “Gonna show me what I like?”

Ian lets out a soft whine and nods enthusiastically before gaining control again and gripping Mickey’s ass roughly while pulling him into another biting kiss. Taking them to his room, this time he falls with MIckey getting over him and immediately grinds down in a rough circle grinning when he hears Mickey’s breath catch.

It was always like this with them. Always a fire. Unable to be contained or smothered and finally, finally after all these years, they’d be able to completely let go. They wouldn’t have to clasp hands over each other’s mouths to stay quiet, keep most of their clothing on for quick getaways, they would be able to completely own each other. Take the other one apart until both of them were writhing, needy messes.

While Ian lost himself in feeling them pressed together again he didn’t notice Mickey getting an arm and leg around him until he was flipped to his back, Mickey straddling his hips and looking like a damn pornstar as he strips his shirt with a delicious arch to his back. Ian couldn’t keep himself from running his hands up his exposed skin slowly in worship. It’d been far too long since he felt this consumed by somebody.

“Fucking beautiful.” He hears himself breathe the words before his brain can even finish the thought.

Mickey chuckles and keeps his back arched for Ian before putting his hands down on his chest and moving his hips forward to keep friction up between them. “Get this shit off...Wanna feel you.”

Ian gets up on his elbows shucking off his shirt eagerly then moving to wriggle out of his jeans earning a warm laugh from MIckey who moves to follow suit.

“Eager.” Mickey whispers with a smirk moving over Ian again the second he’s bare, biting and mouthing at his shoulder and chest, hands sliding down his ribs to his hips earning him a beautiful body roll from the man below him.

He continues working down Ian’s body leaving marks on his ribs and above one well lavved nipple before reaching his hips where he slides the flat of his tongue right up the v-cut that gets him weak. He can’t help the smirk that comes when Ian sucks in air sharply. He let’s his eyes flick up to Ian’s and the heavy green stare causes his body to shiver.

He bites at his hip earning a groan from his redhead, growling slightly when Ian’s hand finds his hair as he licks up his length. Ian opens his mouth to speak but before words can form, MIckey takes him down as far as he can go, quickly relaxing his throat and getting everything but the last two inches.

“Fffff--uuuuckkk” Ian groans and gives his hips a slight roll. “Jesus Mick.”

When Mickey gives a groan and a few good bobs, Ian catches on and slowly starts working himself into Mickey’s warm mouth. The way the full lips look wrapped around him making him feel dizzy as his body heats up. Soon he’s full on fucking into Mickey’s mouth, the sight of Mick’s eyes rolling back in pleasure has him tossing his head back with a choked groan as his hips stutter and he yanks MIckey off roughly by his hair. “Enough...f-fuck. Gotta stop or I’ll bust.” He pants a bit looking at his lover guiltily.

Mickey smirks and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, keeping his head tilted back while Ian’s large hand keeps his hair locked in his piano fingers. “Still taste s’good.”

Ian groans and moves fast, tossing Mickey up the bed and shoving him face down into the pillows. The flash of heat over Mickey’s face tells him he’s doing this right. He slides his hands down his body in claws causing Mickey to shiver as he presses against his back to whisper hot in his ear, “Keep your body down and hands to yourself.” Before Mickey protests he brings his hand down in a sharp smack against the ass he loves so much, “On your knees...Spread those beautiful legs.”

Mickey huffs but compiles. Before he can give some snarky remark his breath is stolen by the flat of Ian’s tongue sliding between his cheeks. He grips the sheets tighter when he feels Ian spread him open and hears the lewd sounds of his licks and sucks. The sensation causing his whole body to buzz. He felt like he was floating up in the clouds as Ian worked him open like a starving man offered his favorite meal. He was so stuck on the feeling on Ian’s tongue slowly working inside of him while his lips gave a heavenly suction he didn’t notice a hand leave his hips until ians thumb was massaging deep slow circles on his perineum, long fingers cupping some of his length and keeping him from dragging the head against the sheets.

“Ahhhh...Fuck, Ian. So...s’good.” His head drops low between his shoulders, forehead resting against his clenched fists as he rests on his forearms.

Ian sits back and wipes his mouth with his free hand before opening the side drawer to grab lube, all the while keeping his thumb working. He only stops his ministrations long enough to let the lube drip down over Mickey’s crack and down his heavy hanging length before his hands are back. The one working his balls and prostate from the outside as the other starts to work a finger into him.

“Fucking Christ, Mick, feel like a fuckin’ virgin.” Ian laughs breathlessly. Mickey having him lose all sense of control. He can feel himself dripping and he aches but the sounds Mickey’s making, the way that perfect fucking back looks with those muscles rolling under the pale skin, he feels like he can cum just from that.

“B-been a while.” Mickey stutters out between pants. “Only get this...this f-fuckin’ turned on by you. Only you.” He shivers when Ian adds his second finger.

By the time Ian’s three fingers deep and working his prostate from all sides, Mickey was a panting writhing mess covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His body was nearly shaking and he was reduced to full on begging. “I-Ian...Fuck..Fuck man c’mon. Get on me. F-fuck I need you..please.”

That was all the go ahead Ian needed. He pulled back, quickly slicking up himself with his greased hands. “Fl-flip over. Need to...Need to see your face.”

Mickey moved on shaky limbs and spread his legs in a way that had Ian groaning at the sight. Their eyes caught and it felt like electricity ran through them both as Ian slid in slowly, dropping to his forearms so they could share heated breath. They quickly pressed their mouths together as soon as Ian bottomed out. Ian waiting patiently as Mickey adjusts, Mickey sucking on Ian’s lip as he clenched around him in slow waves. Then he’s pulling back and looking up to Ian with a hand cupping his cheek and neck.

“Move..” He breathed into the quiet of the room. His eyes fell to half mast the second Ian started rocking into him. They moved slowly together, Mickey’s hips lifting to meet every one of Ian’s thrusts. The last time they did this, Mickey had just come out. This wasn’t fucking and they both knew it. It was on both their faces and in their eyes. It was corny as fuck and Mickey would fight anyone that said it, but they were making love. Truly connecting again after so long apart.

Mickey choked on a guttural moan when Ian hit his spot dead on. The air seemed to snap and sizzle out in a crackle as suddenly that heat, that passion that only they had took over. Ian pounded into him ruthlessly, aimed perfectly at that bundle of nerves. White hot heat filled Mickey’s entire bod. He was babbling nonsense. He could only hear the slurs and Ian’s name between whatever else he was attempting to say. His vision started to go and suddenly he felt his body lock then break out in uncontrollable shaking as he saw nothing but stars.

Ian’s hips jerked a few more times before Mickey was filled with warmth and he pulled Ian flat against himself, lifting his hips to milk Ian through his release. They lay there holding each other and panting for a long moment. Only moving to kiss deep as Ian pulled out, causing them both to shiver and groan.

They curled into each other. The time apart and Mickey’s love of curling close showing strong in the twine of their buzzing limbs as they began to doze.

This time, right as they were both barely conscious, it was Mickey’s voice that gave the instinctual, “I love you.”

__________

MIckey woke up later into the night, a beautiful throbbing running through his body as he moves to face the man holding him tight to his strong chest. He lifts his hand to rest it on Ian’s cheek, running his thumb over the high cut of the bone there. He was beautiful. Gone were the chubby cheeks covered in freckles and the goofy permanent grin with big puppy dog eyes hidden by red banges. Now he was all angles and sharp lines, a strong, slightly crooked jaw line and sun bleached copper hair cut short into a slight comb over slick to control his curls. His lips were parted as soft breaths left him, ginger lashes resting on his cheeks where his faded freckles laid like stars on an inverted sky.

Ian made a soft sound and nuzzled into his hand before speaking a quiet “Hey…” into the silence of the room.

“Hey” Mickey hears himself whisper back before he presses a kiss to Ian’s beautiful lips, feeling so much more whole when Ian presses right back. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah...wake up a lot anyways.” He opens his eyes now but adjusts his hold to make it tighter on Mickey. “You alright?”

“ ‘M the best I’ve been in years…” He smiles a bit and slides his thumb over his cheek, grinning further when Ian kisses his palm. “Worried about my boy and what I’ll do about home now, but I’m happy...so happy.”

Ian smiled and rubbed his back gently. “Yev’s coming home soon, Mick. He’s doing great. Taking well to the treatments and medications, his hair’s even growin’ back.” He nuzzled into his hand again, closing his eyes as he touches their foreheads together. “We’ll deal with Mexico, okay? If I gotta fuckin’ figure out how to be a medic ther fuck it. If there’s a way to keep you here, fine. If we gotta do distance, I’ll do it. ‘M not fuckin’ leaving you again, Mick. Never again.”

Mickey felt his emotions catch at the admission. Swallowing down the thick feelings he rolled over bringing Ian’s arm around him to become the little spoon.

“I don’t want to leave again. But, I got a life there man. Got two jobs I’m good at, got a friend. An actual fuckin’ friend. But here...here I got you...I got you and my boy and fuck, even Mandy is back and wanting me in her life. I don’t know how to choose.”

Ian kisses his shoulder. “Then don't’. Not yet at least. Just live. Live and enjoy the time here as much as you can. We’ll work through it, okay? I ain’t gonna pretend we don’t have shit to think about or work on this time, but I wanna enjoy you. Fuckin’ missed you.”

Mick swallowed back thick emotion again and pushed back against Ian, squeezing his hand tight and pulling them close together in response. Ian began mouthing at his shoulder until he was again rocking into him at a slow leisurely pace.

This is where Mickey belonged. Not Chicago, not Illinois or even the US. Not Loreto or Mexico, either. Here. In Ian’s embrace, with his son minutes from his arms, his sister a car ride away.

He belonged where he was needed. Where he was loved. Now all he had to do was figure out how to stay where he belonged.


	15. Little Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yev reminds Mickey just what home is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last bit of happy before shit goes down.

A few days later Mickey was sitting in the hospital room with Yevgeny curled into his lap, flipping through an old comic book Ian had given him. The doctors were running the final tests to be sure that today was okay for Yev to be released. Svetlana was out speaking with a nurse about home care and going over what should be expected and what would require a return to the hospital. Mandy had to be at her second job, her day job, where she was working in such a normal pppppppoffice style employment. Yev was poking around the comic when he decided to ask a burning question.p

“Daddy? Mommy says you guys are best friends, but you aren’t like my friends’ mommies and daddies. Do you not love Mommy?” He looks up to Mickey with those identical big baby blue reading right down into his soul.

Mickey blinked. He always knew questions like this would happen, he just thought Lana would be the one to answer. But as luck seemed to be, she wasn’t. “I do. Just not like your friends’ parents buddy. I love Mommy like I love Aunt Mandy, okay?”

Yevvy gets a very serious look on his face as he mulls it over before he nods and then seems to get more questions. “If you love Mommy like friends why do you have me?”

Mickey smiled. This answer was easy. “Because we got this really cool idea of you and we loved you just so much that we had to have you buddy. So we decided we’d have you even though we’re just reeeally good friends.”

Yev nods in understanding before going on, “Mommy loved Daddy Kev and Mommy V….who do you love Daddy?”

Mickey stops at that. Should he tell his son? Clearly he saw no issue with Lana and V. He thought about the redhead. The days they had together recently, the nights he spent warm and naked in his strong arms, the way Ian made him feel. He knew he loved him. Always had.

“Uhm...I love Ian, kiddo.” Mickey spoke quietly and looked away with his lip stuck between his teeth. He felt like a moron being afraid of a toddler but, this was his son. Yevgeny meant more to him than he could understand himself.

Yev nodded and grinned, “I like Ian. Momma calls his Carrot Boy.” He looks at his dad again with a very serious look. “He does look like a carrot. He’s gonna be Carrot Dad.” He nodded like this was an extremely serious decision.

Mickey snickered and ruffled Yevgeny’s fuzzy little head. “Alright kiddo.”

Right then, Ian walked into the room having gotten off of work in time to help with taking Yev home. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a bright smile.

Yev gasped dramatically and turned to Ian with wide eyed excitement, “Carrot Dad!”

When Mickey was reduced into full on laughing at Ian’s owlish expression he supposed he had his answer. Ian walked into the room more looking at Mickey curiously, “Did you tell him?”

Mickey looks up to Ian with a loving smile, only grinning more when Ian picks Yevgeny up when the small boy puts his arms out to him in request. “Course. Kid’s smart as shit man. Not gonna lie.”

Yev makes a puffy little face, “Daddyyyyy! That’s a potty word! That’s a dollar to the swear jar or you gotta brush your teeth with soap.”

Mickey makes a face, “The fuck?”

“Daddy!”

Ian snickered and bounced Yevgeny happily, “Your dad doesn’t know what bad words are Yevvy. He thinks all words are the same.”

Yev turns his pouting face up to Ian, “Don’t matter.” He shakes his head stubbornly. “Potty words are naughty words. Naughty words cost.”

Mickey grumbles and pulls out his wallet, pulling out two dollars he hands them to his kid. “Getting hustled by my own son, I swear.”

Yev takes the money with a happy giggle while Ian laughs and hugs the tiny boy with a sweet kiss to his head, “Awww, c’mon, Mick. He is your kid. Are you really that surprised?” He grins that big, stupid grin he gets whenever he gives one of his stupid jokes. Mickey would punch the look off of most people, but with Ian he simply wanted to kiss the smile away.

Lana walked into the room then, “Doctor says Yevgeny can go home. He will be in to do release in a moment.” She slid her eyes between the three boys in the room. “Why all smiles?”

Yevgeny waved the two bills excitedly at his mother, “Daddy used potty words! Carrot Daddy is gonna help make him talk smarter.” He nodded sagely.

Lana smirked, humorously and with pride, “Very good, Sunshine.” She looked to Ian with arched brows, “Carrot Dad?”

Ian shrugged and motioned to Mickey, “Guess someone felt like sharing with the little man.”

Mickey stood and walked over, taking Yev from Ian’s arms when the toddler reached out. “He’d figure it out on his own. Figured I’d just tell him.” He looked at Lana straight on.

Lana smiled, “Am not angry. My baby is very smart.” she lovingly caressed Yev’s head gaining a bright smile from the boy before he went back to playing with his dad’s shirt to looks at the tattoo peeking out from the collar. 

The doctor at that moment walked in to announce Yevgeny’s release.  
_______

Mickey passed a drink over to Ian as he sat down next to him as they watched Yev play enthusiastically with his new turtle action figure in the yard outside Mandy’s small condo-like place. He took a long sip before speaking, “Thanks. For being there today...and through all this.”

Ian turned to him looking over his face to see why Mickey felt the need to show gratitude, “Of course. It’s what I’m supposed to do, as your friend, as anything more too.”  
Mickey smiles, “Boyfriend, Gallagher. The word you’re lookin’ for his boyfriend.” He took another drink before finding the bravery to look at the boy he’s loved since sixteen. When he took in the shocked look on that goofy freckled face and the way his eyes went starry he knew he’d said exactly what Ian had needed to hear. More than that though, he was relieved to say what he’s needed to say for so long.

Ian sets his drink down and swallows, “You serious? You’re….You’re really okay with that now?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, even as a grown as man Ian Gallagher was a hopeless schoolboy. He reached over and gently lifted his chin. “Yeah, Ian, fuckin’ serious.” The smile that took over Ian’s face short circuited Mickey’s brain and before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning close with a hand on Ian’s mid thigh and pressing their lips together. Right there in his little sister’s front yard. Right there in front of his ex-wife and son. Right in the middle of the south and north sides where anyone could see. This time though, he didn’t pull back when Ian fell out of shock and gripped his face in passion. This time he almost wished his father could see, that anyone could see. He loved Ian Gallagher and for once he wasn’t afraid.  
______

Yevgeny crawled up into Mickey’s lap once dinner was done and he was still holding Mikey tight to his little chest and looks up to him with those big identical eyes, “Daddy? Now that I’m getting better are you gonna leave again?”

Mickey nearly choked on air at the hit of that question, “Hey Yevvy...I dunno what I’m doing about stayin’ or goin’ yet but can I tell you somethin’? It’s somethin’ only I can trust you with okay?”

Yev got a very serious look on his face, pulling his lips into a tight line and giving a stubborn nod.

“If I gotta leave again, and I see ya only for visits, it’s not ‘cause I ain’t choosin’ you little man. You’re my favorite person, okay? I’ll always choose you. I’m proud of ya, real proud. I love ya kiddo.” He lifted little Yevvy up above him, causing the kid to giggle, before pulling him down into a tight hug.

“What about Carrot Dad, Daddy?” Yev pushed back with his little hands on Mickey’s chest.

Ian walks into the room after helping with the dishes, “What about me now?” He sat down next to Mickey trying hard to refrain from getting domestic and kissing his cheek on instinct.

Yev turned to Ian, “Daddy said I’m his favorite, but I thought you were. You can’t have two favorites right?” He looks to Mickey again, “You can only have one favorite, that’s why it’s a favorite. Silly Daddy.” Yev grins a bit but still looks confused.  
Mickey smiled, glad as all hell he’d been bless with the gift of quick wit and bullshitting from day one. “I know, little guy. You’re my favorite, okay? Ian’s my person. It’ different. Love you guy’s different. I love you like yer mom loves you, right?” When Yev gives him a nod he continues, “And Ian’s like how you love Mikey, okay? How he’s yer hero and makes you feel happy and brave. That’s Ian to me.”

Yev’s grin grew until Mickey seriously thought the kids face might just split into two. He nods eagerly and when Svet calls him for bath time he squishes Mickey’s face tight between his chubby little hands until Mickey’s force into a fish face and got a very serious look. The look Svet tended to give anytime she was scolding someone. “If Ian’s your person then you gotta be his Mikey too, okay Daddy? I’ll be your favorite for always.” He kisses his dad’s squishes up lips and climbed off with a bright, “Night Daddy!” as he ran towards his mother. “Night Carrot Dad!”

Mickey stayed sitting there blinking after him for a moment in surprise when he heard Ian snort and fight off an onslaught of giggles. Mickey turned an incredulous glare on the redhead.

“Fuck’re you laughin’ at, asshole?”

Ian grinned bright and happy, putting a hand on Mickey’s upper thigh as he turned to face him. “That kid has you wrapped around his little finger. He totally owns you and you don’t even notice it.”

Mickey crossed his arms and furrowed his brows stubbornly. “Like fuck he does.” 

Ian just smiled still and leaned closer, putting his weight on the hand on the sensitive part of Mickey’s thigh. “It’s cute.” The second he sees Mickey thaw he presses his lips to the other man’s.

Mickey leaned into the kiss before pulling away with a sigh, “Yeah, yeah Gallagher. Don’t get all wifey on me, aight?” He grins with a slightly rough nudge from his elbow.

Things were starting to feel so much like home. Like he had this place he was meant to be and he didn’t ever want to leave it. But, he knew he’d have to return to Loreto soon. He knew he should be having the conversation with Ian about what they were going to do about his complicated living status. But, like when anything else in his life went well, he wanted to focus on these moments. It was rare a Milkovich had happiness. Especially one from Terry’s spawn. He knew something bad was coming. Something would go wrong and soon. He could feel it in his bones. The question wasn’t so much and if but and what and when.


	16. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry.
> 
> The plot thickens and things go south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Minor violence-less to the show but still.

Mickey woke up to the feeling of the bed dipping and the sounds of movement. When he opened his eyes the room was still dark and as he started to lift himself up a large, warm hand slid over his arm and gently coaxed him back into the warmth of the pillows and sheets.

Ian leaned over him and nosed against his hair with a whisper, “Just taking my meds. Go back to sleep.”

He layed back down and let his eyes and body relax, but couldn’t help but to listen to his lover moving around in the bathroom as quietly a possible. A couple moments later I was back, curling under the blankets and pulling Mickey back into his chest.

Mickey moved just enough to not only press their naked bodies flush together again, but to press his lips tenderly to Ian’s. He gently worked their mouths together for a moment as he felt Ian begin to get his shakes. He got them everytime he took his meds and Mickey and brought it upon himself it make it his job to gently coax him through them with kisses and warmth. Ian didn’t seem to mind.

Soon enough the younger man was pulling back to bury his face into Mickey’s hair and just breathe him in as they laid curled together like one.

When Mickey woke again the sun was shining through Ian’s painfully thin curtains and the smell of coffee was reaching his nose from the kitchen. Again he was alone in the bed.

He wandered out in search of his boy to find him sitting at the counter with the news up on his second hand macbook with two mugs of hot coffee sitting by him.  
On instinct, he turned his head without moving his eyes from the screen for a morning kiss.

Mickey kissed the corner of Ian’s waiting mouth with a happy smile as picking up his coffee- All sugar with just the bitter aftertaste of the cheap brew. Ian still knew how he drank his coffee. He couldn’t help but grin as he leaned against Ian slightly to browse the screen over his shoulder.  
Just some news report.

Everything felt so domestic and Mickey couldn’t help but feel the happiness it brought him. He wished this could be their life every single morning.

Ian closed the laptop once he was finished and turned to Mickey with his mug in hand and a smile on his lips. “Morning.” 

This time Mickey learned to kiss him full on, pulling back with that small little smacking sound. “Morning, sleepyface.” He smiled warmly as he took in Ian with his mussed up hair, droopy morning eyes and attired of boxers and definitely Mickey’s pull-over. “Still stealin’ my clothes man?” He teased happily.

Ian grinned and set his mug aside to pull Mickey forwards by the hips holding up Ian’s boxers from the night before. “Look who’s talkin’.” 

Mick finished off his coffee before kissing Ian’s forehead and just staying there between his legs as Ian began littering kisses all over his exposed chest and ribs. “Ready to go to the park today with Yev?”

Ian hummed his agreement as he flicked his tongue over a nipple, grinning when Mickey’s breath caught in his throat. “Yep. Trev said he wanted to stop by. Know Deb’s is comin’’ with Franny too.” He quieted to start sucking gently at the teased side of Mickey’s chest.

Mickey shivered slightly and slid his rough fingers into Ian’s not yet tamed curls. “Mmm, kid’s gonna love that. Little fucker loves having people all around.” He lets his eyes close as Ian works lower on his body. “Glad he’s finally fuckin’ healthy.”

Ian did nothing but hum as he slid from the stool to his knees and worked Mick put of his boxers.

Trying to keep his head straight Mickey continued, “Kinda excited to actually get t’play with him, y’know?” Finally Ian broke his resolve when he felt his lover’s cheeks hollow and his tongue do filthy things to his dick.  
“Fuck that feels good.”  
\-----

Come lunchtime Mickey was moving around the tiny opening in the park with a giggling toddler on his shoulders. Yevgeny had one hand gripping almost painfully in Mickey’s hair, the other holding his Mikey Turtle like the character was flying. Ian was in front of them juking and dodging all of Mickey’s small, half-assed lunges as they played the lamest game of impromptu tag.

Trevor was standing off to the side holding beers and laughing with a finally relaxed Svetlana and a snarky Mandy and Debbie-Franny on Debbie’s hip not sure of Yev enough quite yet to mimic him on her uncles high shoulders.

“Daddy! Get em!” Yev giggled as Ian full on spun in a circle just out of Mickey’s reach.

Ian chuckled and teased in return, “Yeah Mick. Gotta be faster than that man. What happened to your big bad skills?”

Mickey snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes at the giggles a wink from Ian pulled from his son. He turned like he was gonna walk away and, just like he knew he would, the second Ian got close enough to follow Mickey spun on him and tagged his boyfriend with a fist in his shirt and a kiss to his lips.

Ian froze up in utter shock at such a public display while Yev dramatically covered his and Mikey’s eyes and a long-suffering, “EWWWWW!!! Daddy that’s icky!”

Trevor laughed at the sight, “Still able to be owned by a hot guy, ey Ian?” He called over to his ex-now-best-friend. Mandy and Lana snorta in response.

Debbie joined in Trevor’s teasing with a classic Gallagher snark of, “Weeeeeak.”

Mickey pulled back with a cocky smirk and gentle shove to Ian’s chest. “Yer it.”

Ian blinked for a moment but the second he snapped out of his shock a large, beautiful smile overtook his entire face. “You’re so gonna get it.”

“Give it to him later! We eat now!” Svetlana called over to her favorite men as she set down the pizza’s that had finally arrived.

Mick set down a squealing Yev who ran over to the table and instantly found a seat next to his sorta cousin, Franny and helped her get a plate.

“You’re a good dad.”

Mickey turned to look up at Ian at that comment, a sweet smile on his face. Ian was looking at him, his face split by a goofy grin, and he reached out to pull Mickey closer by his hip. Mickey went willingly looking up to this guy he’d been stupid for since they were children. Standing here now with his son giggling just feet away and Ian looking at him like he hung the damn stars just for him, he knew without a doubt that he finally had a family. A real, loving, safe family.

Mickey pulled Ian down into a soft kiss, just brushing his full lips against Ian’s. He couldn’t help but grin at Ian’s obvious surprise, still unused to Mickey being comfortable with affection in public, but he quickly melted against him when Ian pressed forward with a bit more passion, lips parted beautifully. 

Ian pulled back with a smile at the same time Mickey pulled away to speak, his hand still resting on the small of Ian’s back, “C’mon.” He nods towards the table their little family took over, “Let’s go eat.”

They only made it a few steps before there was a strong, angry voice that dropped ice on the warmth of the moment. The colors the joy he was feeling melting away like watercolor in an oil spill.  
“Hands up! Don’t move!”

Those four words. Four words Mickey had been so determined to never hear again had him freezing, praying to a god he didn’t believe in that they were there for someone else, anyone else. But, when Yevgeny looked up and went from his toothy grin to wide eyed and stricken like he was back in the hospital again, he knew it wasn’t.

Mickey turned to the officers, Ian pressed to his back protectively, to see that they were coming in in a circle, guns drawn and aimed squarely on him.

“Papa?” He heard Yev’s little voice and he turned over his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Little Man. It’s fine.” He tried so hard to keep his voice from wavering, but when he felt Ian getting ready to fight back, protect him, he knew he had to fix this.

He stepped towards the officer that’d been shouting commands, a gruff looking man with a military cut, his palms facing the guy by his chest. “Hey man, c’mon. My kids right there. Please, don’t do this in front of him.” 

“Stop moving!” The guy snapped in response and he heard Yev’s voice growing louder, closer.

He stepped just a bit closer, determined to get between his son and any barrel of a gun. “Look man, I-”

He was cut off by a sharp pain he never thought he’d feel again, a painful crack to the side of his head that sent him crumbling to the ground barely able to get his bearings as he realized he’d been pistol whipped. He heard Ian move to attack but spun as quick as he could, despite his vision going. “Stop! Stop Ian. Just fucking get Yev!”

Ian stood staring at Mickey, torn, before realizing that the kid was running quickly into the thick of this, towards Mickey, towards the guns. Clearly he’d out maneuvered the three adults, Lana still chasing after him, Debbie holding a wailing Franny. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Ian scooped up a crying and screaming Yevgeny, the kid still running and desperately reaching out his father as he left the ground.

Mickey tried to push himself up to his feet but was quickly shoved to the ground with a boot to his back, his arms getting yanked painfully behind him as the police recited the rights he knew better than even they did.

All he could do now was speak. “It’s okay, Yev. It’s okay. I’m okay. Stay with Ian, kiddo. Please be good.” He kept his pleading eyes on his partner and son as he was yanked to his feet and dragged away. Wanting so badly to go comfort his sobbing son. Ian help Yev close, fighting back his own onslaught of tears as he saw Mickey dragged away.

Mickey kept his eyes on him until he was shoved forward roughly. Now he was looking forward, towards the police cars and the freedom he was losing. When he got close enough to see his cousin, Colin, standing getting a handshake and envelope from a detective he realized what happened.

He’d been sold out.  
_________

Hours later Mickey was in a holding cell again. They’d taken everything he could contact his family with, his wallet, ID just about anything he could use to escape. They even took his fucking shoes.

All he could do was sit. Leaning against his knees with his elbows, his hands folded as he hung his head low, that’s what he did. He waited. He waited until he was called to a room. A small questioning room where he knew he’d get supplied a shitty, fresh from college public defender. One that didn’t believe his innocence either but had to get their feet wet to start their career. Start their lives; forever ignorant to the one they were ending.

“Milkovich.” He winced when he heard the name. 

He stood, wiping at his nose, as he walked towards the officer holding the door. Keeping his head down he spoke softly, “It’s Olensky.”

He was led into a small room and, needless to say, was more than a little surprised when the guy sitting at the table by the detective on his case was clearly a seasoned professional. He was young, that much was clear, most likely around Mickey’s age if only a year or two older. He stood and offered Mickey his hand, not even bothered when Mickey had to reach out with cuffed wrists.

“Mickey? I’m Gregory Lappin; Greg. Phillip Gallagher contacted me for your case.”

Gallagher. Of course Ian would find a way to help him. That man always surprising him with what he’d do for who he felt loyalty to. Going far enough to get Lip to pull strings was impressive.

“Lip?” He asked, his curiosity peaked.

Greg simply smiled, “College friend. Said he needed my skills here. Gotta say, this case is interesting.”

When the detective behind them coughed, reminding them that he was still there, Greg’s face turned serious, professional. Game face.

“Right. Let’s get to it.”  
_________

Ian couldn’t stop pacing. He felt like he was losing his mind. How could he have let this happen? Let them just take him? It had taken hours to calm Yevgeny down, the only thing that really did being him crying himself to sleep in a fit of snot and hiccups. He could only imagine how scared this kid was. He himself was terrified.

Lana and Mandy were in the kitchen making coffee and plans on how to fix this, what to do. Lip was with them assuring them that Greg knew his shit. That he was Mickey’s best chance.

Debbie had taken Franny home, needing to get the little girl away from the stressful situation.

That left Ian pacing in Mandy’s tiny living room, Trevor watching him from his perch on the couch.

“Ian. He’s fine. This isn’t his first rodeo.” Trevor had that voice. That voice full of so much logic and matter of fact nonchalance, the one he used with his kids, that it had Ian’s temper flaring.

“That’s the issue, Trevor!” He stopped, standing stiffly as he glared at the seated guy. “He escaped fucking federal prison! Greg’s gonna have to be able to pull miracles out of his ass to get him out of this! He’ll be lucky if they don’t give him twenty to thirty years!” He felt his emotions well up and a knot tie in his throat. Flashes of Mickey as an escapee hitting his memory. How he’d looked scared, dirty, broken. Then another flash hit him.

That scar.

The scar on his ribs from his father. The father that was still in the prison he’d no doubt be sent back into. Sent into as this new, softer version of himself. Sent in looking like his mother. 

“If he goes back he’ll die.” The words left him in an airy breath. Trevor stood up, stepping close and opened his mouth to argue but Ian continued before he could. “That’s why he escaped in the first place, Trev. His fuckin’ dad was transfered to the same prison. Fuckin’ jumped him in the showers. Stabbed him, gave him staph. He nearly fucking died. That’s why he ran. He ran so he could actually fucking survive.”

Trevor looked at him wide eyed, searching Ian’s face as he took in this harsh truth. The reality of the cruelty that not only came from the south side but from the monster that was Terry Milkovich.

Trevor knew there was no words he could give Ian to calm him. No words would protect the guy he’d fallen so hard for so many years ago. So instead, he just pulled Ian close into a tight hug. Ian returned it, burying his face into Trevor’s shoulder, needing the affection and comfort.

They stood that way for a long moment. Maybe longer than what was normal, but Ian felt like he was falling apart and he was too grateful to be held together to care. They pulled apart but stayed standing in silence, just letting their bodies calm and brains slow down. They turned when they heard Lip’s footsteps make the wood creak behind them. Ian’s big brother looking at them with that look he had whenever he had a great master plan idea. Ian never realized how much he needed his brothers arrogant brain power and confidence in the people he met at college like he did when Lip opened his smart mouth.

“That was Greg. He’s got a plan.”


	17. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian speaks to Mickey before they start setting up the plan for court.  
> Greg brings up very painful memories in hopes of winning this case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of rape, abuse and violence. Nothing not cannon.

Ian hated this. He never thought he’d be doing this again, but of course, here he was getting scanned by a grumpy square of a lady with a metal detector. He just wanted to talk to Mickey, see with his own eyes that he was okay. He hated seeing him like this. Seeing him caged and cold. It always set him on edge and made him hurt knowing Mickey was most likely much worse.  
He was led by the walking cube woman to a tiny closet like room with a chair and phone shoved up against a window. On the other side of the glass was an equally small room with a guard standing like a sentinel by the door off to the side. The guard looked over when a buzzing could be heard and stepped to the side for the door to open.  
And there he was.  
Mickey came shuffling in with his head down, feet and wrists shackled together by a central chain, his uniform sitting on him by make, all that streetwise swagger was gone. He looked drained and small as he walked over to the chair. Still, when he lifted his face and looked at Ian a small smile made it through, his eyes crinkling in that way that made Ian weak to refrain from smiling in return.  
With his shackled hands he reached for the phone, Ian following suit, the both of them greeting each other at the same time. That caused them to sit there like grinning idiots as they just looked at eachother.  
Mickey’s face was scraped up with a cut upper lip and a nice scratch over his eyebrow from where he’d been shoved to the ground in the park. Other than that and the messy fall of his hair, he looked good. Healthy.  
“How are you doin’?” Ian couldn’t take his eyes from Mickey and was grateful the feeling appeared mutua. If he was being honest he was surprised his voice had worked.  
Mickey’s eyes ran over Ian’s face as he spoke, “ ‘M fine, man. Got my own cell and shit. Put me in solitary since I’m at flight risk.” He shrugged slightly, like that wasn’t considered torture by many. “It’s good ‘cause my old man don’t even know I’m back.” He sniffed and wiped at his nose, Ian’s cue to the fact that Mickey was hiding negative feelings. “How’s my boy?”  
Ian couldn’t help but smile even more. Hearing Mickey talk about Yevgeny, the warmth and pride that filled his voice, always made Ian remember exactly why he loved this man; he was so loving and so nurturing to those he cared for.  
“Yev’s good, Mick. Running around and eating solid food again. He’s gainin’ weight back and they’ve been able to stop his chemo and radiation. All they’ve got him on now is regular checks and shit. I’d say he’ll be in remission any day now.”  
Mickey sighed in relief letting his eyes fall with his head to rub them with his hand. Ian knew that he was fighting back the raw emotions he had from this situation. He looked back up, completely together, “Good. Fuck man, scared the shit outta me seein’ him get that skinny y’know? Looked like a damn ragdoll.”  
Ian smiled brokenly and put his fingertips to the very bottom of the glass window. Mickey’s eyes went to it and with a crooked smiled he told him to, “Get your hand off the glass” All the while he pressed his own fingers to where Ian’s were. Ian felt a strong knot curl it’s way into his throat as his eyes stung. Just the growth this man had made from their teenage years had him struggling to keep his emotions in.  
“We’re gonna get you outta here. I promise Mick. You’re not gonna be stuck long.” He looked over Mickey’s face, taking in his look of worry but it was the look of resignation that had Ian breaking.  
“I know court’s soon, man. Just….Just don’t get too hopeful okay” He wiped at his nose with the fingers around the phone looking off to the side. “And Ian? Please….don’t lie to Yev okay?” He looks back to his man. “Don’t tell him that I’ll be out soon and all that shit. I know how that hope feels at his age. But, this kid already went through so much. I can’t hurt him like that. Just tell him that I’m safe and I care about him ok?” His blue eyes search Ian’s face just needing to know that his son isn’t going to be a victim of the life that smothered him for so long.  
Ian nods, “Okay, Mick. I’ll...I’ll be there for Yev, okay? I promise I’ll do everything I can so that he never feels like he doesn’t have a dad. I can’t replace you, you’re his fuckin’ hero, but I’ll do whatever I can.” He smiles softly.  
Mickey goes to respond but right as he’s about to speak the guard from the wall had moved and is yanking him up from the stool.  
Time was up.  
Ian bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He wanted to yell at the guard who was manhandling his love and even rammed his elbow into Mickey’s face when Mick simply tried to hang the phone back up, claiming resistance. His knuckles were turning white as the guard bodily moved Mickey towards the door despite how there was no resistance. Ian was going to tell this to Greg.  
He wasn’t leaving Mickey behind. Not this time.  
_______  
The moment Ian walked into Mandy’s place a tiny body was rushing towards him and latching to his leg.  
“Hey buddy, how’re you doin?” He set down his bag in favor of scooping up Yevgeny and holding him on his hip.  
“I’m good. Did you see Daddy?” Yev looked at Ian with big hopeful eyes. It was clear that he loved having his father around and in a constant state of worry after witnessing the treatment Mickey endured during his arrest.  
Ian kisses his cheek as he walks towards the kitchen where everyone else was sitting to start working on Mickey’s case for the first day of court tomorrow. “Yeah, little man. He’s good. He told me that he loves you and he’s real proud, okay? Just needs you to be his little man and be strong, okay? Focus on getting healthy.” He smiled when Yev nodded determinedly and sets the boy down once he reaches the group. “Go play, alright? We’ll grab ya once we’re done.”  
Yev gives a little wave as he runs off towards Mandy’s room where she’d set up an xbox for Yev to play with while the adults worked. Ian turned towards the table where his brother, Mandy and Svetlana all sat around Greg who held a fairly impressive looking folder.  
He pulled a seat out and nodded for them to start. Lip was, unsurprisingly, the first to speak.  
“I managed to uncover some videos of when they questioned Mickey and Sammi in the original arrest. They left Mickey alone for long enough to have him stir crazy. In Sammi’s room it looked like she decided to give a fucking hummer to the guy doing their questioning. If I had to guess, that’s how she got that bullshit conviction of unjust self defense.”  
Ian felt anger bubble up in his chest and he glared at the table before looking to Greg, “What’s that gonna do for us?”  
Greg scrubbed at his neck a bit before pushing up his glasses and he sets down his folder. “It’s going to give us a leg up on saying the original arrest was shady as all hell. There’s little to no evidence that he actually tried to murder Sammi and the transcript of his questioning shows that he was completely compliant the entire time and answered questions that point more towards his innocence than anything else.” He opened the folder to show photo stills from the security cameras during Sammi’s questioning and other’s laying behind it with flashes of orange saying they were most likely from the prison. “The biggest issue is the prosecution hired Talia Hikes. She’s beyond good at he job and knows exactly what to bring up. She will have all the dirt possible on Mickey, but also on all of you. She know as well as I do that our best bet is to sway the jury with Mickey’s character. To do that we will have to use the background you all come from to sway the jury from thinking this is a thug to just a young man who didn’t know better because of his abusive upbringing. I’ve spoken to both Mickey and Mandy and they’ve agreed to this course of action.”  
Mandy puts a hand on Ian’s and looks at him a bit sad but hopeful, “We’re gonna be hit with things like your illness, Mickey’s criminal history and everything. Our biggest ticket is going to be using Terry. We’re going to have to turn this case to being putting him away forever. Not just having him in there for the six years he was sentenced.”  
Ian looked at his best friend, taking in the expression on her face and coming to realize what was going to happen. They were going to have to bring up everything. Bring up how Terry had tried to murder him twice, come into their home even to hurt him, how he had raped his own daughter and abused Mickey into a state of submission. How he’s trained Mickey and his brothers to be his own personal gang. The worst of it all was that they’d have to drag up the secret they were all keeping from the boy that brought them together.  
They were going to have to say how Yevgeny came to be.  
He looked to Svet then, “Will you tell him?”  
Svetlana sighed, already knowing what Ian was asking, “I spoke with Mickey. Yevgeny is a witness, whether we like or not, so he will hear in court about conception. We decided we will tell him together. I will bring him to jail to visit father before the start of witness calling. Tomorrow is simply the beginning where we focus on original arrest.” She looks towards Mandy’s room where he son was blissfully unaware of the pain they were all feeling. “We all must be certain he knows that he is not regret. Yevgeny is loved, it is why we have our Mickey back.”  
Greg was the next to speak, “That’s our other best sell. I hate using children, believe me I wish none of this involved Yevgeny, but the fact that Mickey came back and risked his freedom for his son will be a huge sway for the jury. I will have to call Yevgeny to the stand. He will be the least biased witness. He is too young to know Terry and has been protected from the rules of South Side well enough to maintain true innocence. Asking him about his birth will be the only way Hikes can fight us with him.”  
Ian nodded. He could feel his body tensing and his mind growing weary. He listened like he was under water when Greg was saying once court began he didn’t want any of them going home alone. That it would be best for them all to stay together so that whatever Hikes brought up it wouldn’t break them down. He felt like everything rushed around him. He didn’t even notice Greg leaving or the women moving to go be with Yev until Lip grabbed his arm.  
“Mandy told us what happened. About the day they had Yevgeny, why the marriage happened.” He was looking at Ian with more compassion than he’d seen his older brother hold for him in a long time. It reminded him of when they were Yevgeny’s age and Ian had gotten that fever on the side of the road. “I should have known that you didn’t just get scraped up from fight. I should have paid more attention to you and not fucking Karen. I’m sorry.”  
Ian puts his hand on Lip’s. His big brother had always felt more like a twin than anything else. They’d always been each other's best friends and even with the distance between them as they grew, that hadn’t changed. “I’m alright now. It’s...fuck Lip, that’s why Mick fought so hard for me. We...we were end game y’know? Bringing that all up, having to tell Yev...This is going to be hard.”  
Lip stood and put a comforting hand on Ian’s shoulder while his younger brother put his face into his hands in exhaustion, “I know. That’s why I’m staying with you while this happens. This bitch can bring up my drinking, my fling with Mandy, whatever she wants but I ain’t gonna let her drag my fuckin’ kid brother. No one’s ever gonna fuck with you Ian. I didn’t even let Mickey do that back in the day.”  
Ian laughs wetly and looks up to Lip, “I’m not worried about me. Who’s gonna protect Mickey?”  
Lip didn’t even hesitate. His face the seriousness of when he solved a long, hard equation, all fierce determination with the undertone of arrogant confidence.  
“We all are.”


	18. All Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of court. We see how Mickey pleas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual trigger warnings apply.

Today was the first day at court. They’d be giving their plea for a retrial and a not-guilty sentencing despite it being clear that Mickey did, in fact, escape prison. It was going to be a hard fight, but between Lip and Greg’s minds on top of what all of them had witnessed over the years, there was hope.  
They’d all gone over with Greg how this was going to have to run. They would all have to testify individually and could not bring up things they weren’t directly a part of. This had to be clean and to the point.  
Mandy had been shaken from having to relive the pain Terry had caused her as a child and how she had eventually discovered things that he’d been doing to her older brother over the years that he’d somehow gotten all his children so desensitized to. She’d hurt enough to fall into Ian’s arms as she cried.  
On the other hand Svetlana had remained her usual detached self. She held little shame after the things she had endured through her life. However, after describing the father that sold her into sexual slavery as a child for a mere three hundred dollars, then turning around to say that Terry was a real monster, Greg had needed a moment to soak in who exactly this man was and just how damaged his client could be.  
That damage had come to somewhat of a light when he had gone to the prison to work with Mickey himself. Mickey hadn’t gone into detail on things, nor did he give much of an emotional response past the occasional expression or tick. Though he was strong and calm, Greg was trained to read people and he knew this act and it was just that, an act.  
Mickey and Svetlana had yet to tell their son of his conception. It wasn’t like there was ever an opportune moment to tell someone, especially one as young and gentle-hearted as Yevgeny, that they were a child of rape. Svet felt that being forthcoming was the best strategy but Mickey wanted to preserve his son’s innocence as much as he could so he had convinced her to let him tell the story and her explain further. But, they were going to get through the first day. They wanted to tell Yev before he was called as a witness of character. They couldn’t give him surprises.  
Then it was Ian’s turn. He had told Greg everything he had seen. Told him about his fear, and the fear he saw in Mickey, about being gay in the south side. The biggest worry with Ian was how Hike’s would no doubt use his history of Bipolar and Psychosis. Greg’s plan was to turn it into more proof of Mickey’s character. Ian was ready to tell how Mickey had stood by him, cared for him and loved him through his low and through his manic stage and the kidnapping of Yevgeny. He was not ready to remind Mickey of how many times he abandoned him because of the voices in his head.  
Svetlana was kneeling on the ground in front of her son tying his tie to get them all dressed appropriately to be in the courtroom.  
“Am I gonna get to see Daddy today, Momma?” Yevgeny looked up to her with a slight pout on his little face.  
Svet tapped her knuckle under his chin lovingly, “Yes you are, Darling. He’s gonna love how handsome you look for him too.” She gently smoothed a hand over the duck fuzz like hair growing from Yev’s head, not quite yet the thick blond it was before making him look even more innocent and young.  
Yevgenny smiled at the news having missed his father dearly since that day in the park. He took his mother’s hand and walked out to meet the others, only letting go when he spots a certain redhead and runs over to him putting his arms up to him, “Daddy Ian!”  
Ian grinned and scooped up the little guy with a dramatized grunt, “Wow kid. Gettin’ big. Gonna be big enough to pick up yer old man soon”  
Yevgeny grinned so broad his face looked like it might split, “Nuh-Uh. Daddy’s the strongest!”  
Ian smiled and nodded his agreement as he moved the kid to his hip as they all started heading out to where Lip had slid into the driver’s seat of Mandy’s jeep with her sitting shotgun. Ian opened the door and let Svet climb in before setting down his man’s mini-me.  
The car ride was silent, thick with everyone’s nerves. No one knew how today would go.  
_____  
The jury and judge came in before they brought in Mickey. Greg was waiting for him at the table already and Ian’s hand instinctively curled into a fist at the looks of haughty contempt on the jury’s face when they brought Mickey in. Just like in the prison he was chained at the ankles and wrists, he looked tired and worn down, but still managed to look clean even in the orange jumpsuit.  
Right when Ian started to lock his jaw in anger a tiny voice seemed to soften the jury.  
“Daddy!” Yevvy was reaching out over the railing of the pew they were all in, desperate to be in his father’s strong and safe arms. Instead, he was lifted by Svetlana who calmly hushed him in Russian.  
Mickey’s head snapped up to look at his ragtag family at the sound. He lifted his hands to give his son as much as a possible wave he could manage speaking softly, the distance the only reason he was loud enough for the jury to hear, “Hey buddy, It’s okay. Gotta be my superman just a little longer, okay?”  
Yev’s little lip trembled but he nodded in determination getting that gentle smile Mickey used to only have for his baby sister and then for Ian.  
The jury began to whisper amongst themselves until the judge cleared her throat to gain everyone’s attention. “Let’s begin, shall we? Mr. Milkovich-”  
“It’s Olensky, your honor.” Greg was the one to correct her, his voice polite but firm. “My client legally changed his name.”  
The judge nodded before speaking again, her voice just as firm, “My apologies. Mr. Olensky, You are being charged on your previous charge of attempted murder and aggravated assault along with the charges of escaping prison and illegal immigration as a fugitive in Mexico. How to you plead?”  
Mickey’s voice was surprisingly calm when he said, “Guilty, your honor.”  
Mandy’s hand latched to Ian’s arm in a claw like vice. They had all expected him to stand for his innocence. This wasn’t at all what they wanted to have happen.  
The judge raised her brow, peering over her bifocals at the former thug. “Seeing as I not only have Mr. Lappin in my courtroom, but Ms. Hikes as well, I’m going to guess that this isn’t a simple guilty plea.”  
Greg stood up holding his tie to his chest to keep it smooth. “You would be correct, your honor. My client is guilty of escape and running, however he did so on sound and logical reason. Furthermore, he is not guilty of assault and attempted murder, but of a corrupt legal system that failed his initial trial on top of a background of what I can only describe as brainwashing.”  
The judge leaned back in her seat, Interested in how this may play out. “That’s quite a plea, Mr. Lappin. If our jury were to find your case to be truthful what would you suggest we place on your client?”  
“My client has agreed to take on the burden of felony charges but, I believe if we are given the chance to speak the jury will find that my personal plea for time served is just.”  
The judge nodded again before turning towards the strong looking dark skinned woman at the other desk. “Ms. Hikes, how do you fit into all of this?”  
Talia Hikes rose, already in command of the room by her mere presence. “Your honor, I represent the state of Illinois and believe that this man is nothing more than a seasoned, violent criminal from the south side of our great city of Chicago. I believe if we let him go he will continue to con and murder his way into another arrest and I don’t feel like playing roulette with where I call home.”  
Again, the judge nods. “Very patriotic answer, Ms. Hikes. I expect this case to be an interesting one, indeed.”


	19. How Love Is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey tells Yevgeny how he came to be.

Svetlana breathed out shakily and rolled her neck to relieve the stress resting there. It wasn’t so much that she hated being in prisons as it was she hated having the sweet boy that was currently sitting on her lap into them. This had to happen, though. She just hoped that it went over well.  
Mickey was led out to his side of the visiting hall and pushed into the seat. His hands and ankles still cuffed and for a moment Svetlana wondered if they ever took the chains off. He picked up the phone and nodded when Svetlana grabbed it and handed it directly to Yevgeny.  
“Daddy!” Yev excited yelped over the line, causing Mick to pull the phone back with a warm chuckle.  
“Hey little man. Lookin’ good. Gettin’ a nice fuzz up there.” He nods towards his son’s little head.  
Yevgeny nodded eagerly, “Mhm! The Dr. says I’m all better! Says I don’t gotta get the icky shots anymore.” He smiled so bright, it looked like sunshine was coming from his skin.  
Mickey had known, of course. Svetlana had called the prison with the news the moment they had been told, but hearing it from his Yev’s own mouth, it felt like a miracle had happened.  
“That’s my little man. Beat cancer’s butt, yeah?” He smiled but it fell when he remembered the lack of time they had. He pulled the phone away to wipe at his nose nervously then brought it back up, knowing he had to do this. “Can you be a big hero with one more thing for me, Yev?”  
Yevgeny eagerly nodded his head again and Mickey let out a shaky sigh before just jumping into it. “Okay buddy, do you know what Ian is to me? How he’s my person?” When there was another nod he forged on. “Okay...well my old man? My dad...he’s not a very nice guy. He’s actually a really, really bad one.” He rubbed at his eyes struggling to keep himself together, his boy listening intently to his every word. “So, Ian’s been my person since we were real young, kay? Well, one time that bad man came in when we were kissin’. Y’know the icky stuff you laugh at us for?” Yevgeny nods but his smile is no longer there. Mickey swallowed hard.  
“Well, being a real mean guy, he didn’t like seein’ me happy with my person ‘cause my person’s a boy. So, he wanted my person to be a pretty lady like your momma, but I was made likin’ guy’s like Ian, okay?” His son gave a quick nod and sharp hum of agreement. Kid was barely past kindergarten and could already understand that his dad was gay. “Okay...so my dad got even meaner. Meaner than he’d ever been and beat up me and Ian. Beat us up real bad. Then, he called your mom over. Back then, your mom would make guys feel good to be able to buy things. So my dad held a gun, threatened to kill all of us and made your mom do that to me. He thought it’d make me not love Ian.”  
Yev’s little eyebrows were twisted up in confusion, but he knew from the way his dad was talking that this wasn’t anything good at all. He gave a little sniff before nodding again and looking for his daddy to continue.  
“Well, it didn’t work, little man. Actually did the opposite of what he wanted. It gave me another boy to love. That boy’s you, Yev.” He licked his lips before continuing, “So you’re gonna hear about how you were made when your mom and I didn’t love each other. How you weren’t meant to happen, but I want you to know that I don’t fuckin’ blame you, kid. What my old man made us do is not on you, it’s on him. I love you more than anything in this world and so does your mommy. We might just be friends, but that just makes you special, okay? You’ve got extra love ‘cause you got Ian, too. Ian’s been around since you were a baby, Yev. He’s loved you just like me and yer mom.”  
Yevgeny nodded and sniffed back crocodile tears. Eventually he managed to whisper out an, “Okay.” He nodded some more as his small, but intelligent brain took in what he was just told. “I love you too, Daddy.” Still holding the phone in his little hands he turned to look at Svetlana. “Can we go home now, Mommy?”  
Svetlana nodded and kissed his head leaning forward to hang up the phone and put her hand on the glass. Mickey mimicked her and kept his eyes on his son.  
When Svetlana walked out with an exhausted Yevgeny looking back over her shoulder to his father, the little boy put a hand to his mouth and blew Mickey a sweet, heartfelt kiss.  
It took two hours for Mickey to stop crying.


	20. Protector, After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandy and Yevgeny are called to the stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of violence and rape.

Hikes was the first to call a witness.  
She had called Mandy up who looked at her like she’d lost her damn mind- as if she’d willingly testify against her own brother.  
She smoothed out her skirt as she sat and shot Mickey a reassuring look as the prosecutor approached her.  
“Ms. Amanda Milkovich, may I call you Amanda?” Hikes looked to her with a heat, like a ray of sun through a magnifying glass.  
“It’s Mandy.” She narrowed her eyes at the woman. If she wanted to play the game of bitch she was going to have to work.  
Talia hummed, “Alright, Mandy, you’re the younger sister of the accused, is that correct?”  
Mandy didn’t even think about it when she smiled warmly towards Mickey, “Yeah. He’s always been my closest brother.”  
Hikes nods and looks to the notes in her hands before back to Mandy. “How would you describe your brother’s demeanor?”  
Mandy gives her an incredulous look, “It’d depend on who he’s around, y’know? He’s a bit defensive and sorta closed off when you first meet ‘im. But, my brother’s actually one of the most loving men you’d ever meet. He’d take a bullet for anyone he let’s in and he’ll protect you better than any damn pit bull. He chased down a boy for three days simply because I said he was mean to me.” She grins over to Ian. “That boy’s right there, that redhead. We’ve been best friends ever since.”  
Hikes narrowed her eyes, clearly not enjoying the answers coming from this girl. “Please stay on topic Ms. Amanda.” She clears her throat before speaking again. “Your brother has quite a record. Would you agree that your brother is, or even was, a thug?”  
Again, Mandy holds back a scoff and turns it into a shrug. “We’re from the south side of Chicago. Thugs are who survives. My brother didn’t do anything that everyone else in our neighborhood wasn’t also a part of, so unless you want to prosecute our entire neighborhood I’d suggest you stop trying to paint my brother a criminal.”  
Hikes looked livid, she opened her mouth but quickly closed it again with a snap of her jaw. Glaring at the ground she grumbled, “No further questions,” as she passed the floor over to Greg.  
Gregory Lappin stood up and smiled kindly to Mandy with his approach. “Ms. Mandy, as my colleague, Ms. Hikes, had asked- you would say your brother portrayed the life of a thug as a form of self defense, correct?”  
Mandy nods, “Yes. It’s what we were taught. I carried a baton on my person to physically defend myself. We didn’t grow up in a child-friendly area.”  
Greg nods and looks to Mickey who’s looking at the floor ahead of himself like he doesn’t know where is the polite place to look. “And you said your brother’s personality is different according to his comfort levels.” He turns back towards Mandy. “Seeing as you are his baby sister, what would you say his personality is like around you?”  
Mandy takes a deep breath and looks to Greg, clearly going to give a story she’d shared with him before, but from the look on her face, only with him.  
“Mickey has always been my protector.” She smiled sadly when her brother’s head lifted and their eyes met. “We grew up in a home that was more like growing up in a warzone. Our older brother’s were barely around. Our mother died when Mickey was only about eight. I would have been about six at the time, but I remember nights before it happened our parents got in a fight. I ran into my brother’s room to hide. He held me until we heard our mother screaming. I followed Mickey once he leapt up and grabbed his little league bat.” She swallowed thickly and looked towards her hands before breathing out shakily again, stealing herself, and looking back up. “Our father was using our mother like a punching bag. He face was all blood and bone and he tossed her around like a ragdoll. Mickey didn’t even hesitate. He attacked our father. Cracked the bat over his back and got between them. He told my mom to get me. The last thing I remember from that night was my mother running down the street with me, screaming for someone to help her baby. Nobody even opened their door.”  
Greg let the jury take in the story, knowing that the quiet whispers were a good sign. He looked to the two siblings, “First...Let me just say I’m sorry that you had to handle that.” He looked to Mandy again. “May I ask you one more question?”  
Mandy sniffed and wiped at her eyes, careful of her makeup, and gave him a determined nod.  
Greg smiles gently, “Have you ever, at any point in your life, considered your brother dangerous to yourself or others.”  
Mandy shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. The only people my brother would hurt are people that have hurt or are hurting his family. Like I said, my brother’s a protector.”  
Greg nods and turns to the jury, “It seems to be, that like in the case we are going through again, my client is simply a defensive attacker. He does not act in senseless violence. He simply responds in the way he was raised towards those who harm his loved ones.”  
He turns back to Mandy, “No further questions.”  
______  
Between Mandy’s testimony and the next run on the case, there was a quick break for lunch.  
Mandy had chained smoked with shaking hands as she spoke to Svetlana and Ian about how she can tell Hikes is going to try and rattle them. She asked Svet about her nephew as the boy played happily away from the adults with Lip. They were all fiercely protective of the small boy and when they entered the courtroom, and Hikes nodded towards the tiny ray of sunshine, they all knew they were gonna have a hard time holding back their mouths.

Talia walked back up front with a refreshed lift to her shoulders. “The prosecution wishes to call on Yevgeny Yevginivna-Milkovich” She even has the nerve to flat out grin when Mickey’s hands quickly turn to fists at the mention of his son being brought in so early.  
Ian had to grab hold of Mandy’s hand tight as Svetlana very reluctantly handed her son over to a kind looking female guard. Ian and mandy both squeezed tighter when the guard had to pull Yev away from Mickey when he got close. Mickey very quietly telling him that it’s okay and to be good.  
Once up at the stand Yev looked around a little nervously and brought his knuckle up to his mouth. He sucks on the digit as he finally sets his baby blues on the woman that called him forward. It was clear he didn’t like all the eyes on him, especially the judgmental strangers’ making up the jury.  
“Yevgeny..What is Mr. ….Olensky, to you?” Hikes spoke calmly.  
Yev pulled his finger away just enough to speak, “He’s my Daddy.” He immediately popped the finger back to his mouth.  
She nods and looks to Mickey with clear judgment as she asks, “Has he been around your entire life?”  
Yev’s little eyebrows twisted and he pulled his finger away to give a simple, “No.”  
She nods and looks to Yev, “And how’d that feel? Not having your dad?”  
Yevgeny shrugged, “I dunno. I had Momma and Mr. Kev. and Ms. V and Aunt Mandy. Daddy came when I got sick. He gave me his blood and bone….booo...bone narrow.” He nods like he’s confirming the words to himself. “Daddy made me feel all better.”  
Hikes nods and turns to the jury. “So the defendant runs away from prison, from his family, life and country and leaves behind a child, his child, to fend on his own with his immigrant mother. If you ask me that is not the mark of a protector but the mark of another selfish man who put himself before his family. It shouldn’t take the need of a donor for a father to be in contact with their child.” She nods towards the judge and takes her seat.  
Greg looks to Mickey and reassures him, “We’ve got this.”  
He stands and walks over to Yevgeny handing over what he knows is going to help them-his Mikey Turtle toy. Yev gives a happy squeal and takes the toy, hugging it tight to his chest. The action earned a few awes and chuckles from the jury and a smile from his father and Mr. Lappin.  
“I thought you might feel better with that. Can you tell us who that is?”  
Hikes stood and interrupted, “Objection! Relevance.”  
Greg calmly looked to the judge, “I promise this is important.”  
The judge nods, “Continue.”  
Lappin nodded once before turning back to Yevgeny again asking, “Well? Who is that, buddy?”  
Yev smiles happily holding his toy out proudly, “It’s Mikey! My daddy got it for me. He said I deserved to have my favorite superhero with me. My daddy reads me the turtle comics and gets me pizza. He’s like Mikey, y’know. He’s big, strong and reeeeally silly.” He smiles happily over to his dad. Completely beaming, it’s clear how much comfort the toy brings him.  
Greg smiled and kept a kind, child appropriate voice, “That’s so cool. Can you tell me how your dad makes you feel?”  
Yev makes a face, deep in thought, before looking over to his dad and clearly tries to whisper but fails. Really only cupping a hand around his mouth he shares, “My daddy’s actually a superhero, you know.” He nods sagely. “He saved my life. Like all the big heros do. He can pick me up and make me fly, he’s the fastest, the bestest too. Daddy can even pick up Daddy Ian and he’s, like, sooooo big! Like a tree!”  
Greg smiles and nods towards the jury, “So, you’d say your daddy makes you feel safe? You believe he protects you? What about when you’re in trouble? What about when he has to whoop you?”  
Yevgeny looks at Greg extremely serious, “My daddy doesn’t whoop me. He only touches me to give me hugs or high-fives. He tells me if anyone touches me in a different way or if they give me an ouchie to tell him. My daddy would never ever hurt me.” He curls his brows down, annoyed by the mere suggestion.  
Greg smiles and motions for the guard to return Yev to his seat as he turns to the rest of the court. “Now we have not one, but two family members of my client telling you that he is a protector. Clearly this child, his child, has been not only protected from illness but from the usual upbringing from the neighborhood in which he was born. You can argue that my client wasn’t there long, but he gave refuge to his son’s mother when he could have simply split on her. The reports I have on their relationship tells us of how the boy wasn’t consensually made.”  
When the jury started to murmur he put his hand up to stop them.  
“However, the consent wasn’t taken from the woman in this situation. My client was the victim.” He pulled his arms behind his back and paces slightly. “Take a moment. Imagine you are a young, scared, teenager who grew up with the father Ms. Mandy described. Now imagine that he walked in on you with the person you were with. But, this person wasn’t someone your father agreed with you loving. So, he beats you. Badly. Then, while at gunpoint he calls in a prostitute to have intercourse with you in front of that lover.”  
He pauses for a moment then speaks again, “That….that is the story of that young boy’s conception. If you had a child out of rape wouldn’t you as well struggle to accept that child? Wouldn’t you also assume they’d be fine with the parent that had no issue with their existence? I can’t answer for you but, I can honestly say that I, myself, would struggle to connect.”  
He turns so the jury can see Mickey and holds out a hand towards him, “However, despite the way that child came to be, my client returned the moment he heard the child was sick. He risked his freedom for the son he didn’t ask for. He didn’t ask for Yevgeny to be here but, if you ask me, there is nothing but the sense of being loved coming from that boy in regards to his father. He told us he was a superhero! That isn’t the words of a child that feels abandoned. Those are not the words of a child afraid of their parent. That boy is how he is because he has grown up surrounded by nothing but love and kindness.”  
He moved to stand next to Mickey, physically to show his metaphorical loyalty to the man. “Mr. Olensky may not have been in his son’s life the entire time, but surely you can see the impact he has had on it. He has done nothing but encourage, sacrifice, and care for his son. He has done nothing but be a father. A father that he, and most from his neighborhood, have absolutely no example of. If you as me? That just says he is a superhero, after all.”


	21. Scary Terry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry is used to defend both sides of the case.  
> Ian is called to the stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of violence and rape

The following day Hikes had taken on an entirely strategy to ensure Mickey ended up behind bars. She was currently clicking through stills of security cameras, photos of past transcripts and even previous mugshots. She paused when they reached a mugshot where Mickey was flipping off the photographer.  
“As you can see,” She began, motioning towards the pulled down screen and looking towards the jury, “Not only has he had run ins with the law many times as a juvenile, he also seems to find our justice system as a joke.” She jumped to the next photo that was a magnified view of Mickey’s hands, those tattoos he now has covered blurry but front and center. “There’s only one photo of him without these tattoos. Which leads me to believe they were done while he had his first stint in juvie. Not only are these tattoos obscene, but if you ask me, they are not only a direct mockery of our judicial system but clearly go along with his violent history. If I had to guess, this man is another example of a bad upbringing, a lack of discipline and a warped sense of morality.”  
She took a moment to let that sink in before moving on to her next point. She then brought out a mugshot of Terry. The photo itself showed the evil rage coming from this bigot of a man.  
Mandy grabbed Ian’s arm again at the sight, Yev hiding his face into Lana’s shoulder and Mickey visibly stiffened. The photo alone was enough to send jolts of fear through the ragtag family of the people that monster had tried so hard to destroy.  
“This, ladies and gentleman, is Terrence Milkovich. He is the father and sole parental figure in the life of the accused. Terrence has been in and out of prison and jail for the past thirty or more years. He’s known for being exceptionally violent, belligerent, armed and hard to keep pinned to long terms.” She turned towards the jury from the photo, “This is the defendant’s example. Most of Mr. Olensky initial arrests were for events involving his father and older brothers. He would go with his father on drug runs, doing things that we see common with gangs as violent as the infamous mob. He’d been involved in these crimes from a very young age. We have all seen the studies and results of young, developing children being exposed to extreme violence. They become desensitized. They lose a proper sense of what’s right and wrong and in most expert opinions, the loss of morals is a loss of humanity. If we put down a wild, or even domestic, animal after they taste human flesh, regardless of their instincts, why do we excuse the behaving of humans- who have much higher forms of cognitive ability- for being deadly as a youth. If anything, those are who we should be putting away the most.  
“If they are willing to, or in this case, fully embracing the lifestyle of violent criminals as young people, isn’t the logical conclusion that they will be violent adults? I truly believe this is not a story of who is the victim but a story of why did we allow there to be victims? This man has beaten, assaulted, mutilated and at the very least, attempted, to kill other human beings. That is not the behavior of someone kind, gentle and especially not safe.”  
She gives a sharp nod before taking a seat. She gave Greg a cocky look, knowing he was going to have to pull some serious miracles out of his ass to make Mickey look good now.  
When Lappin stood, however, he gave Mickey a reassuring knuckle tap on the table in front of him. He knew how to play this game just as well as Hikes. She might have sway over the courtroom because of her esteemed reputation, but Greg knew once they saw exactly the man Mickey was they’d be stupid to believe he was even remotely a threat.  
Greg took a moment to look at the photo of Terry still projected up on the screen. Then he turned to the jury. “When I look at this man I see what evil we have in our world. I had the good fortune of getting to speak to Mr. Milkovich.” He walked closer to them and gripped the edge of the juror's box, letting his head drop between his shoulders for a moment before he stood upright again. “I asked him about his children. I asked what he thought of them. Would you like to know what he told me?”  
He looked between them and the children of the man on the screen, “He told me he had four sons.” He laughed breathless and bitter before turning back to the jury. “Mickey is the fifth born son and Mandy is his youngest child, his daughter.” He motions to the screen, “This man won’t even claim them as his own. He only claimed the four boys who have either long since disappeared or are also in jail. So, to see how it would go over, I asked him. I asked him first about his daughter. He simply called her, and pardon my language, ‘A useless cunt.’ He told me that he wasn’t meant to have a daughter because unless you’re banging them they’re useless.” He shakes his head like what he’s repeating is unbelievable to him, but the way Mandy just looked down to her hands, it was clearly not shocking to her.  
“I then asked him about his son, my client, Mickey. “ He motions to Mickey, “He immediately became enraged and began screaming. He yelled about how, and again I apologize for my language, ‘that useless faggot’ was the reason he was in ‘that shithole.’ I asked him to explain further for me once he had calmed down enough. He told me his son had come out at his own son’s baptism to purposefully taunt him. He called Mickey and aids monkey and told me he hoped that some man would kill him with his” He clears his throat into his fist, “With his genitalia. Wanted his son to choke on it and die painfully and bloody.” He looks to Mickey who is staring at his curled fists like a shell shocked man. “I asked him how he could say such a thing and he laughed. Laughed! He turned it into a joke and told me that he had tried to do it himself, first by making him a father and then again while they were in the same prison. The very prison Mr. Olensky had escaped from.” He moves to stand next to Mickey again. “I can’t honestly say that If I had been raised by the same man that I wouldn’t have turned out much the same, if not severely worse, than Mr. Olensky. He had no father. He had a tormentor. He had no childhood. He has a survival story.”  
___  
When they returned from that day’s recession, Greg led the second half of the day.  
“I call Mr. Ian Gallagher to the stand.” He stood there, calm and professional as Ian stood from the group and handed Yevgeny off to Svetlana.  
Ian struggled to not touch Mickey as he walked past. It’d been well over a week since he’d been in the same room with not wall between them. He felt like he’d crawl out of his own skin to just touch him, feel him, smell him or hear him speak and the way Mickey followed him with laser like focus, it was clear that he felt the same.  
Ian sat at the stand and nervously looked out over the crowd before focusing back on Greg. Giving him a nod, he told Lappin that he was ready to begin.  
“Mr. Gallagher, may I call you Ian?” At Ian’s kind smile and nod, Greg continued. “Ian, how long have you known Mr. Olensky?”  
“We met in little league but, we really didn’t get to know each other much until I was fifteen. So, I’ve known him since he was about seventeen.” He looks to Mickey feeling this calm rush over him when Mickey is staring right on back.  
“How would you describe the relationship you have, and-or had, with him?”  
Ian swallowed a bit, still unused to Mick being okay with him saying this out loud, “Together. Back then we would hook up in secret. Our neighborhood wasn’t a place safe for us to be out as gay men, especially not for Mickey with the home he lived in. We stayed together through all of what’s been brought up here and are again together now.” He looked to Greg now. “The only time we weren’t was after he went to Mexico,”  
Greg nods in understanding, “So, you were lovers. Would you like to tell me, from your perspective, what had happened in the events involving Mickey and his father?”  
Ian sat back and looked to Mickey, his heart breaking further seeing his face and remembering what had happened. “I used to call him a coward. I used to get so angry with Mickey because he wouldn’t come out. He wouldn’t even admit to me that he was gay. It took him so long to even kiss me, he was that afraid. Then the day following Mickey having me stay at his house-I had been shipped to a boys’ home because my father called CPS on us after we kicked him out for being drunk and Mickey wanted me somewhere safer- Mickey and I were having sex in the living room. Terry came home early and lost his shit. He attacked me, I was an ROTC trained young guy, but had absolutely no chance in hell of even defending myself. Terry is like a freight train and it’s even worse when he’s fueled by his anger.”  
Ian turned back to Mickey and gave him the most grateful smile that he could. “Mickey didn’t even hesitate. He jumped on his dad and pulled him into a headlock to get him off of me. His dad then turned on him and was beating him to the point Mickey stopped moving. I started to run, I wanted to get out, get help, but Terry pulled a gun on me at that point. Mickey-barely even able to breathe normally kept clawing at his father trying to keep the attention on him. Terry knocked him out with a pistol whip to his head. He then called in Svetlana. He made me watch as he used her to rape his own son, claiming she’d ‘fuck the faggot outta him’.” Ian looked to his hands and breathed out shakily blinking back slight tears when he looked back up.  
“Even after Terry did that, then forced Mickey to marry Svetlana when she turned out to be pregnant, I still wanted Mickey to be mine. I wanted him to be able to kiss me in public and call me his boyfriend. He’d already done so much for me. He’d gotten me to come home from selling myself at the clubs, he’d physically carried me home after I passed out, saved me from being sexually assaulted right before that too. He’d done so much already, but I wanted more. So, I told him we were done. That I wasn’t going to lie and hide anymore. So, Mickey came out. He came out in front of his entire family, all his dad’s friends, at the local bar our entire neighborhood went to regularly. Terry flipped a table. Tried killing him right there in the bar. Mickey fought back for me. Mickey took that all for me. Terry is a monster. I grew up in the same place as Mickey and I can promise you that Terry is by far the most dangerous man that I have ever met, and I spent two years in the military.”  
Greg smiled kindly, albeit apologetically, “I’m sorry that you both had to experience such horrific levels of abuse.” He turned to the jury again and let them soak in the new information. He couldn’t help the internal smile that came with the looks of horror on their faces.  
“Now that you have all not only heard from Mandy, Ian, court records and Terry himself there is absolutely no possible way to deny that Terrence Milkovich is an incredibly violent, abusive murderer. If I had to make any decision I would look at what Mickey has done and see that he has done absolutely nothing but try to survive and impossible situation. So much of what we have on him are things where he had been defending himself or others from life threatening situations. I stick by my statement of him being a survivor and I stand with his sister and his son calling him a protective man-a superhero if you will.”  
He walked over to the jury and looked at them with a look similar to a scolding parent. “This has taken every last ounce of doubt of him being a potential threat for me. He is nothing more than a victim. A victim of our system, of his hometown and mostly of the man he had to call a father for far too long. Mickey has cut every tie with his father. He uses his mother’s name, he is out and proud with his partner and, so much unlike his own father, he looks at his son like he is a miracle. Mickey Olensky may not be the most innocent man, but he is by far the most inspirational and loving man that I have had the honor to meet. If you cannot look into your own hearts and find the kindness there to understand this man….”  
He glared at the jury now. Just knowing that Mickey has done no wrong.  
“then shame on you.”


	22. Love Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short but important chapter.
> 
> Mickey's statement will be it's own thing.

Hikes stood up, the sight of her cocky grin making Ian’s stomach drop painfully.  
“Though my colleague surely made good points, there are some interesting things that have been conveniently left out.” She turned to Greg, the look of a viper taking over her face. Then she was practically circling Ian like a lioness.  
“Mr. Gallagher, you said you have know Mr. ….Olensky since you were both teenagers, correct?”  
Ian narrowed his eyes, knowing this was dangerous. “Correct.”  
“When you were teens, living in the south side, how stable was your lifestyle?” She tilted her head just slightly, the faux curiosity clear.  
Ian leaned back with crossed arms, “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.” He knew. He knew that she was trying to trick him into sharing just what the south side life was like; how they were all raised to be criminals, how you had to play the game and avoid the police simply to survive. But, he also knew if he shared those without her making it clear she was pulling things out of her ass, he would appear less credible.  
Unfortunately, Hikes was not deterred. With a tight smile she continued, “The south side has different rules than the rest of our great nation, yes? In the streets the rules are less based on law and more based off of a pack-like survival mentality. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
Ian grits his teeth, he knows she’s trapping him, but he can’t lie, that would only case Mick more issues. “Yes.”  
She nods, “So, in that sort of situation, would you agree that Mr. Olensky, his family and-or even yourself, have participated in some….less savory behaviors?”  
He nearly growled out the following confirmation.  
Again, she nodded. “And, Mr. Gallagher, my reports on you tell me that you were arrested by the Military Police for theft, falsifying documents, impersonation, destruction of government property and desertion. Would you agree that this is true?”  
“It is. But, those charges were dropped.” He was glaring now. He knew he was, but he couldn’t help it. She was playing hardball and pulling out things that were painful.  
“I see..” She grinned like a feral animal, “and why, perchance, were they?”  
Ian grit his teeth, trying so hard not to cuss her out, instead he glared at the stand. “Because I did it while manic. I’m clinically Bipolar.”  
She hums with a nod. “Is that the official diagnostic?”  
Greg stood, “Objection! Invasive questioning.”  
Hikes calmly looked towards the judge, “I promise, your honor, this is simply to validate his stance.”  
The judge nodded and motioned for her to continue.  
Hikes turned to Ian with a quizzitive raise of her manicured brows.  
Ian sighed, running a hand through his hair, he gave in. “I have Bipolar one with acute psychosis.”  
“I see. So, like with your actions while enlisted, clearly your mental illness clouds your judgment.” She turns to the jury, effectively ending her talk with Ian. “If this young man’s morals were fogged enough to destroy his own dreams based solely on what his disorder told him to do, wouldn’t it also fog his judgment when it came to Mr. Olensky? Now...to further prove my point…”  
She turned back to Ian now, “What is your relationship to Mr. Olensky?”  
Ian’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t...she was seriously going to use something as simple as love to ruin Mickey’s life.  
“We’re together.” He gave her the stubborn tilt of his chin. Fuck her if she thought this would make things worse.  
Humming, Hike’s continued, “How long have you and the accused been together?”  
“Since we were teenagers. I love him. He loves me.” He looks to Mickey, needing him to know he’s not trying to hurt him. “I would die for him. He’s proved many times that he would do the same for me.” The look of raw feelings that Mickey returned to him had Ian weak.  
Hike’s turned yet again, “Love. A feeling we all know.” She started pacing the jury box, pausing for effect. “Whether that love is for a partner...a sibling...parent, or even a child...we all know the feeling. We all have at least one person, at some point in our lives, that we would go beyond all sense of reason for. Mr. Gallagher not only loves the accused, but also has a mental illness, a disease he cannot control nor be blamed for, that affects his daily life and judgment. It’s only logical to think that somewhere along the way lines were not only blurred, but crossed and Mr. Gallagher may have never even known or simply waved it off.”  
She turned towards Ian as though she pitied him. “Now, I’m not saying we should blame him, nor should he be prosecuted for the things that he believes, but we should remember the facts come before things we see from behind rose colored glasses.’ She looked back to the jury. “Now, I have no lenses for this man. I have no love or attachment to him or his family. I don’t even feel a loyalty to the south side. All I see here is the product of a criminal background, raised by one of the most dangerous men Chicago has seen in decades. I urge you, think about those you love. Think of those you feel the was Mr. Gallagher does for the accused. Would you want to, in your good judgment, let someone like this man around them? Or are you willing to look without your lenses to protect those that deserve them?”  
With that she turned from the jury, mumbled Ian’s dismissal as though she were struggling to keep he emotions in check, and sent a wicked grin to Mickey and Lappin. She was winning quick. Mickey was the next to be called to the stand. They all knew that Mickey was going to have far too much dirt on his record to pass being a stand witness. This was it.  
Mickey was going to prison.


	23. Screwed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's time at the witness stand turns sour quickly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of sexual assault and violence

Greg Lappin stood with a sigh, and offered his hand to Mickey. Of course, though, that sent the guard to roughly haul Mickey to his feet the second he reached a hand towards Greg’s.  
Mickey didn’t even fight it, he just let the guard haul him over to the stand and shove him into the seat. It’s not like the jury cared, after all all he was was another useless thug.  
Greg gave the guard a disapproving look before turning to Mickey. “Mickey...I know this can’t be easy for you, having come simply to care for your ill son, but thank you for working with me.”  
Mickey again ignored the sarcastic snorts from the jury and nodded towards his lawyer.  
Greg continued, “You declared yourself guilty on both counts, but nobody does things without reason. How about we start with the older case, the one that had you imprisoned originally.” He lifted his brows towards Mickey who gave another nod, both of them hated that they had to play the legal game. Mickey more than Greg, but even Greg was frustrated that he couldn't simply tell the jury exactly what he knew and just let Mickey return home. “In the case of Samantha Slott, would you shed some more light onto why you pled guilty this time?”  
Mickey gave another nod before speaking, “I pled guilty because that’s what the courts found me last time. I don’t think it’s correct, but I don’t think it’s my place to argue with the justice system.”  
Greg hummed his agreement, “What was the intention with that case?”  
Mickey sniffed and lifted his bound hands to wipe at his nose before continuing, “I had put a sleeping medication in her drink. Sammi had shown the entire time that she had been around, uninvited, that she was violent and unstable. I only put it in so I could get her put in a chair and lock her in the room with me to talk. She had called the MP’s to turn Ian in despite knowing that he had just been released from the hospital and wasn’t doing well. I was just starting to convince him to take his medications and work on learning how to live with his illness. I wanted to simply talk to her and convince her to retake her claim, to personally tell the MP’s that he was in fact sick and she had made a mistake. But, she didn’t wake up. I checked her pulse and her breathing and everything seemed as though she had died. I panicked. I didn’t make the right decision, and I know that, but I put her in the back of that truck. I grew up with a murderer. I knew how to get away with crimes like that, but as you can tell, I’m not a killer. I didn’t do it correctly. She came back to shoot me and chased me through the neighborhood firing a gun when we were arrested. I wasn’t surprised when I was sentenced simply because I know what my reputation is. I was surprised that she seemed to get nearly nothing for chasing and opening fire in a neighborhood that had children in the street. I don’t think I was wrong in running from her.”  
“How could you have been. Only someone with no sense would say you should have stayed put and allowed her to shoot you.” Greg then turned to the jury, “This wasn’t the only thing I found that was wrong with this case. I looked into how there was any possibility of him being sentenced, especially without a proper trial, and this is what I found.” He then turned to the drop screen and clicked on photos from the questioning room. “As you can see” He points to the blond on the screen, “That is Miss Slott,” He then motions to the man, “and that is the judge in charge of the case.” He clicked to the next photo, one that without any doubt was Sammi yet again using sex to be sleazy and wrong. ‘And that is Miss Slott making quite the case, wouldn’t you say?” The jury gasped in shock, just what they needed. “Clearly, ladies and gentlemen, that case was hardly solved in a fair manner. If anything the woman should remain in lock up for the child abuse she gave when tattooing her son, abandoning him and harming him. She should also be there for the sentence she tried to put off on this man. She was the one who tried to kill him, not the other way around.”  
Greg then turned to the jury box with a much more solemn stance, “We have already heard about the type of man that raised my client. I almost feel like I’m giving him undeserved respect by even calling him a man or a parent, he is nothing more than a monster.” He looked back to Mickey and gave him a soft, apologetic smile. “My client was ready to serve his time, and if you look at his record he always had and he’s done so with good behavior.” He looks back to the jury. “But, this time was different. This time his tormentor was transferred into the same prison. His own father attempted to kill him while he was in the showers.” He clicked up photos of the stab wound, open and then stitched. Ian gently covered Yevgeny’s eyes at the sight.  
“As you can see here his own father beat and stabbed him. As though that weren’t enough, the weapon Milkovich and his….group, created caused this.” He then clicked to the next side showing a rough looking staph infection; the area open, blackened and clearly oozing. The skin surrounding it covered in pustules all over the deeply bruised skin. “Upon very minor inspection it was discovered that the infection wasn’t simply coincidental. His own father purposefully used a tainted blade. When questioned, Milkovich actually said that the goal was to give his “faggot of a son” HIV. He wanted to be sure his own flesh and blood died slow and painful.” He shakes his head in disapproval, “It was only after that that you decided to escape, correct?” He now turned to Mickey.  
Mickey nodded, “Yes sir. I knew the moment I was back in general public my dad wouldn’t stop until I left the prison in a body bag. My father hates many people, but those of different sexual orientations are the worst in his eyes.” He frowned and looked to his hands. Speaking this way, using such formal jargon felt wrong, unnatural. It was only worsened by the fact that he was using such dismissive sounding terms to describe the things his father had put him through for decades. He felt like he was shrugging it off.  
Greg crosses his arms, determined to get the courtroom to understand. “You told me it was only then that you decided escape was your only choice, do you stand by that?”  
Again, Mickey nodded, “Yes. I had already tried avoidance. I even got myself tossed into solitary so that I was kept away from him. But, once I released from that he decided to jump me. I decided to run away as far as I could. I knew I would never be able to come home, but I wanted to live. I didn’t have visitors at all at that point so I figured if I ran nothing would change for anyone else, but at least I didn’t let my father win. I’m not a murderer. I couldn’t make the choice to off him before he got to me. He’s still my dad, man. Hard to think of doing those things even to strangers, y’know? I know I seem like some thug, but I swear the worst I’ve ever done is broken a leg or two under my father’s instruction or the one time I got on a guy for beating my sister. You don’t hit women, don’t care what they do.” He sniffs and wipes at his nose. “But, yeah, I ran. I didn’t know what else to do.”  
Greg paced towards the juror box, “Can you blame him? I would run, myself. I can guarantee you all would too. Think about it, you are stuck in a cage with the man that has tried killing you for who you love on more than one occasion, the man that raped you through a woman at gunpoint. The same man that tried killing you when you just wanted to serve your time. If the opportunity arose to get out, I would take it without a moment’s hesitation and I think, if you’re honest with yourself, you would as well.”  
The jury hung their heads, clearly all feeling the guilt brought on by the truth of that statement. Greg nodded to the judge as he went to sit. It was Hike’s turn. She was going to have to pull out all the stops to fight the emotions Greg was so good at pulling out.  
Unfortunately, making a victim unsympathetic was Talia Hikes’ gift.  
“You say you escaped after your father’s attempt on your life?” She paced the path from her table to Mickey’s place at the stand. At Mickey’s nod she continued on, “The rumor is, you escaped by seducing a female guard. Would you agree with that statement?”  
Mickey narrowed his eyes, “There was a female guard there that was kind to me. She would make sure I was always as comfortable as I could be. When she began to hit on me in very obvious ways I figured it would be a way to get out without violence. My goal was to flirt and simply take her keys with a slight of hand. I wanted out but I didn’t want to ruin lives or harm anyone.”  
She nods, “Understandable. However, when asked about the breakout the guard informed the investigators that you kissed her and, when she was still aware, performed sexual acts on her with your hand.”  
Mickey glared now, “I did only because she pushed forward with her advances, I needed her key ring and she had already started to work through my jumpsuit.” He crossed his arms. The guard had initiated the touch. He had nearly blacked out in panic from the act, there was no way that what he did was victimizing the guard.  
She grinned, clearly taking it to exactly what Mickey feared, “I see, but I’m going to go with that there was no verbal consent. Considering you would have had to remain silent, especially to get your cellmate to grab the keys without people noticing. She wouldn’t have been able to make sound.” She turns to the jury. “Mr. Lappin is trying to make us empathize, see this man as a victim. But, what victim would sexually assault an innocent woman, that he clearly froze up, to gain something selfish. He’s no better than his father.”  
She stepped back again, “In fact, I trust you all and your moral standing. I’m only going to have that be clarified.” She turned to Mickey in disgust, “I have no further desire to speak to a creature like you. Someone who can abuse a woman more than once and have the audacity to claim he’s victim deserves none of my respect or time.”  
She stepped away from him and sat back down as the jury murmured amongst themselves. Hikes had a point. A good point. In what world could they trust the word of a criminal over that of a victimized guard. It was a simple choice.  
Mickey sat there in shock. Wide blue eyes staring straight to the floor, seeing nothing while his hands shook hard in the cuffs. He hardly even noticed the guard step forward to manhandle him back to his place next to Greg.  
Ian was grinding his teeth, he was so close to seeing red. He felt white hot rage bubbling under his skin as Svetlana grumbled how, from experience, she knew there was no possible way for Mickey to have done such a thing. She had been the last woman he had touched, after all. She knew better than anyone the fear just the female form could bring up in him from the abuse his father had pulled through her. She gently took Yev from Ian’s arms, hugging her confused, but clearly upset son close to her chest.  
Mandy turned to Ian looking up to her best friend with wide, wet eyes that looked so much like those of the man they both loved dearly. Silently, in the way only best friends can, she asked Ian what was happening, she screamed her fears through the tremble in her lip.  
Ian pulled her tight to himself, hugging her protectively in his arms as he glared fire and daggers towards those in the court that dared to damn his love. First the judge, then the jury and finally his eyes landed on Hikes. The woman was doing her job, he knew that and couldn’t blame her, but how fucking dare she bring that up. It was one thing to use Ian’s Bipolar. He owned the mistakes he made while manic. Those had still been his choices. But hearing someone call Mickey anything akin to a rapist had him wanting to skin her alive.  
The jury seemed ready to deliberate and sentence without even stepping out, Greg was trying hard to comfort a panicking Mickey while the judge sat on her pedestal clearly ready to sign his death warrant. To throw him back into prison, throw away the key and wash her hands of the guilt when his father ended Mickey’s life.  
The energy in the room was simmering, popping in flares like boiling water. It was all coming to a head when the wooden doors to the courtroom slammed open.  
The clicking of heels followed.  
The entire room turned towards the central aisle where a stunning latina woman was practically strutting down towards the front. She flipped her thick curls over her shoulder, she was dressed in a blouse, jacket and pencil skirt. The unbuttoned top to the blouse along with the red bottomed heels made her look all that much more like a sexy school teacher or secretary. Had he not been ready to rampage Ian might have rolled his eyes at Lip’s clear staring.  
The woman’s red painted lips curled into a smirk as she came to a halt in front of Mickey who was staring up to her with open, mouthed awe.  
The judge quickly hammered her gavel, calling for order. She glared towards Lappin and barked the order for an explanation of who this woman was and why on earth she was interrupting.  
Greg stood with more confidence than he’s held the entire time. They had this.  
“This, your honor, is my final witness.”


	24. Marina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina comes to the stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: sexual abuse mentioned

Mickey couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared up at the grinning latina standing over him.  
Marina had come to help his sorry ass again.  
She bent down and kissed his cheek speaking in solid spanish to him, “I’m gonna get you home, love.” She stood upright again and still, in solid spanish, spoke to Greg, “Let’s get this over with, yes?”  
Hikes stood with a slap to the top of her table, “Objection! The witness needing a translator can lead to faux translations!”  
Before the judge could even make a decision, Marina turned her needle-point eyes on the woman and now through her rolling accent spoke in english, “Aye, Gringo! I speak english you ignorant fuck.”  
Mickey had to drop his head to hide the snort this girl always managed to draw from him, even Greg was wiping the humor out of the muscles around his mouth.  
Hikes looked entirely mortified by Marina’s sharp tongue as the judge tapped her gavel, “Please watch your language in my court.”  
Marina turned to face the judge and dipped her head in respect, “Apologies, your honor. I am much defensive of Mig.”  
The judge gave a curt nod before waving to greg for him to continue on. Marina took the cue to walk with confidence to the stand, smoothing her skin tight skirt as she sat down and crossed her legs at the knee.  
Greg approached her, “Miss Marina Sanchez, you met my client, Mickey Olensky, when he was already in Loreto, Mexico, correct?”  
Marina nodded, “Yes sir. Mig was lost for many reasons when I met him.”  
Greg nodded in return, “Will you explain to us what you mean?”  
Marina flicked her green eyes to Mickey before back to Greg, “When I met Mig I was walking out of a popular bar for tourists and locals to mingle. It’s my workplace. He was standing on the sidewalk with the young local boys we call, Calientacamas. I believe in your language that would mean bed warmers? Though I think the more common term in America is hooker or prostitute.” When Greg gave her a confirming tip of his head she continued, “You could tell that he hadn’t been able to care for himself. He was dirty, tired and frightfully skinny. His hair was about shoulder length and black on the ends that you could see under the hat he wore. I could tell that unlike the Calien-Boys, he wasn’t there to gain dirty money for hooch or smack. He was there to survive. So, when I saw local men approach him, clearly thinking him an exotic new piece with his fair skin and eyes, I stepped in. It was clear he hardly spoke Spanish and the men were using that to their advantage. I pretended he was simply my boyfriend waiting for me to get off work and they were mistaken. Mig was pretty easy to spook at first, but I tried to reassure him in english. It didn’t work.” She laughed slightly at the memory of Mickey’s stubbornness, “He started to walk away from me, but didn’t make it far. He collapsed. I got him to my home. He was very ill. High fever and all that. I brought him back to health and became very close to him in the process.’  
Greg seemed a little taken aback by the story, having not had the chance to go into depth with her before he flight to Chicago. In the viewer side of the courtroom, Mandy had put a hand to her mouth in shock of the state her brother had been in while Ian grit his teeth and fists as he glared to the floor in pained shame. He’s left him. He’d abandoned Mickey and he had hardly managed to survive. Had this woman not found him he could be dead. Either from the fevers or the life of an escort. He could have never come back and it would all be Ian’s fault.  
Mickey looked to Marina remembering this story so well. He’d been burning and tired. He hadn’t slept in months, trying to keep himself fed and alive. He’d burned through Ian’s gift of money quickly just to have shelter and meals despite his efforts to make it last. He remembered expecting to never wake up when he collapsed to the dirty ground outside that bar, face down in an alley. If it weren’t for Marina he wouldn’t be here today. He wouldn’t have that envelope filled with the cash Ian had given him as he saved, worked and had it traded over to American currency. He had it in his drawer by his bed back in Loreto. He had planned to send it to Ian once he had it all. Without her, without her kindness, none of that would have been possible.  
Greg looked to the jury for a moment, “It sounds as though, despite what the prosecution may lead you to believe, Mr. Olensky did not escape to Mexico to live like a free man. He continued to suffer and fight to survive. The only difference was there, in Loreto, he wasn’t at a constant threat of being murdered by his own father.”  
He then placed back over to Marina, “Ms. Sanchez, in your own words how would you describe Mr. Olensky?”  
Marina smiled warm and loving towards Mickey, just enamored with him. Speaking still with a thick accent and slightly off pronunciations. “Mig is one of the best men I have ever met in my lifetime. He was so surprised by my willingness to help him, but like I told him, I’m good at reading people. It's my gift. He is a kindhearted guy. He paid me back despite me telling him there was no reason. He simply refused to let me do something for him without anything in return. He told me about his life here in Chicago. The way he would speak about his son,” she closed her eyes and shook her head with smiling disbelief, “I never once have heard a parent speak about their child with such pure adoration. He said he planned to send him money the moment he had enough to but he truly believed he would be better off with his mother. He told me that she was a strong woman and even after he admitted how he had a son, he never had negative things to say about her.” She looked to the jury for a moment, then back to Mickey and then to Greg. “He is strong. A fighter. But, despite that he is very gentle. I have personally seen him give his own jacket to a young homeless boy. The only things he had were the clothing he had and yet he decided that child deserved it more than himself. When his son became ill he immediately called me and asked that I cover what of his hours that I could. He told me he had to get to Chicago immediately. I, of course, asked him about his freedom. His words exactly were, “Fuck it. I ain’t gonna let my kid suffer just ‘cause I wanna keep my own ass out of jail.” I even asked him about his father, knowing why he decided to come to Mexico. He told me if there was any chance of his son living well he would die however his father wanted him to.”  
Greg smiled kindly and again turned to the jurors, “Does that sound like a bad father to you? Like a dangerous man? I only heard descriptions that followed the hero ideal his own son gave us.” He turned back to Marina, “My last question, ma’am; would you say Mr. Olensky is dangerous?”  
At that Marina snorted a laugh, “Absolutely not. The only way he would be dangerous would be if he was protecting those he calls his family. I believe anyone would be. I have a very good example of dangerous. My father, the puta, was a cartel leader. I saw him during raids, beatdowns and bad sells. He sold me to trafficking as a young, ten year old girl. That is a dangerous man. Mig’s father is a dangerous man. He is not. He is so gentle and good. He is like small dog. All bark with very little bite. Defensive. He will puff himself up to appear large and frightening to deter people but his threats are empty. I trust you have gone over his records, yes? Surely, you all noticed how he never actually committed a crime past passive, petty things. Stealing food, protecting people or pretending he’s an asshole is not a crime. Even here in your country.”  
Greg looked to her sincerely, “I’m very sorry you had to suffer through the abuse of cartel and human trafficking.” When Marina gently waved him off with a smile he went back to the jury. “I would say that just closed the case on weather or not this man is a threat, wouldn’t you? Clearly, he has only ever done thing in cases of survival. This man is not a violent convict. He is a survivor of a horrible life.” He then turned to the judge. “No further questions.”  
As Greg sat down next to Mickey again, Hikes stood and walked over to Marina. She turned on her and it was clear this was going to be an interesting battle between two incredibly smart and capable women.  
“First, let me start by also apologizing for the childhood that was stolen from you.” When Marina gave her a kind nod Hikes continued, “I can only imagine the cruelty you faced.” She turned more towards the jury. “I’d imagine, given the life you’ve had, that anyone less than the devil and his demons could seem kind.” Marina glared hard, she knew exactly where this was going and she kept her mouth shut. There was no way in hell she was giving information to this woman easily.  
Hikes continued with her speech to the jurors, “If you had been exposed to true evil since the time you were very young, wouldn’t you have a slightly skewed sense of who is and isn’t dangerous? Wouldn’t your standards be lower? I’m by no means downplaying the horrors this beautiful, strong woman came out of, on the contrary, I’m telling you to really try and understand just how horrible that all would have been and, with no doubt, was. We have heard how this man had committed crimes that in the eyes of the law, are worthy of time. Given, seeing new proof from his original sentencing and hearing how he has turned his life around I am willing to admit that he isn’t as dangerous as we originally believed however, I can also say there is no doubt in my mind that he is deserving of paying his dues to our nation. He is still, by law, a dangerous man. It would be against our civic duties to allow a criminal get away with his crimes.” When the jury whispered amongst themselves a smile came to her face. “I feel little need to continue wasting all of your time. I hope that, with the good in your hearts, you can all come to the logical decision.”  
With that, the jury left to deliberate.


	25. Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina joins the group to hear the verdict and make plans for the future.

The moment the room split Ian made his way to the front. He couldn’t hang back anymore, he couldn’t sit there and just watch strangers choose the fate of the love of his life. The guard stepped to intercept him before Greg grabbed his arm and shook his head. They needed this.  
Ian grabbed Mickey the second he was within reach. He pulled him as close and tight to his body as he possibly could. Mickey reached up to hold his face lovingly, the cuffs keeping him restrained from full on holding him back. Ian put his forehead to Mickey’s and just shared air with him for a long moment. It felt like he was having to say goodbye. It felt like he was losing him all over again and they hadn’t even heard what the jury had to say.  
“If this goes bad...I need you to help with my boy, Ian. Please..” Mickey looked up to him, eyes pleading. He wanted to go home. More than anything he wanted to pick up his son. He felt beyond guilty about this entire thing happening. He’d come home because his son nearly died and now, right when his boy started to regain his childhood, regain his life outside of being that sick kid, Mickey had his son stressing over seeing his dad chained like a dog.  
Ian swallowed thickly, ‘I’ll do anything, Mick. Even when you’re home with me, I’ll take care of Yev. Take care of our boy.” He smiles sadly, stroking Mickey’s cheek with his thumb, needing him to keep his hopes up.  
Mickey licked his lips before pulling them into his mouth and nodding, the emotions taking over far too strong than what he’s comfortable with. He breathes out a shaky breath before kissing Ian hard. He couldn't give less of a fuck about any of the people seeing this. He needed this. He needed Ian.  
Ian kissed him back just as fiercely, furrowing his brow as he swallowed the hard feelings. He pulled back only when neither of them had air left. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he felt a tug on his leg. He pulled back enough to see Yev standing there, looking up to him with big hopeful eyes.  
Scooping him up, Ian stepped close to Mick again to let Yev feel as though his dad was holding him again. Mickey kisses his son’s head and smiled sweetly.  
“Hey little man. Getting your hair back.” He reached up ruffling the fuzz on his boy’s head, pulling a small giggle out of Yevgeny.  
“When are you coming home, Daddy? Me and Mikey miss you.” He looks at him with a pouty little lip. He wanted his daddy back, wanted bedtime stories and playing with him outside again.  
Mickey smiled sadly, “I’ll be home before you know it, Bud, okay? Tell Mikey not to worry.” He stroked his son’s cheek gently, knowing Yev used his toy to express the feelings he couldn’t quite understand himself. Yev needed him, he needed his father’s strength. Mickey would be damned if he ever let this boy down again.  
“These your boys?” The sound of a thick, rolling ‘r’ on a feminine tongue had Mickey and Ian turning to Marina standing there with a gentle smile.  
Mickey grinned so happy and bright, the crinkles around his eyes showing just slightly, “Mina...Yeah, this is Ian,” He motioned to the redhead that was taking her in, noticing how she had similar features to the girl that brought Mickey and Ian together, “and this is my boy, Yevgeny.”  
Yev shyly lifted a little hand in a wave, popping his other hand to his mouth to suck on his knuckle. He eyed her slightly, trying to figure out who this woman was.  
Marina grinned happy and bright, looking at Yevgeny kindly, “Well, aren’t you handsome, Mijo. Look so much like your papa, yes?” Leaning in, she pretended to whisper conspiratorially to the child, “You’re much cuter, though.” That earned her a happy giggle from her best friend’s mini-me.  
Mickey grins and hugs her as well as he can manage with his bound hands, “Ian... Yev, this is Marina, my friend from Mexico.” He looks mostly to his son, trying to explain who she is. Before turning back to her, “I can’t believe you’re here…”  
She grinned, “Heard my Mig was in trouble. Not gonna leave my man to fend for himself, what kind of woman would I be?” She put a manicured hand over her heart in mock offense.  
“Oh, shuttup you dyke.” Mickey snickered in return, earning a grin from her and a smile from a now far less confused Ian.  
“Rude. I happen to be a lipstick, puta.” She grins and turns to Ian, “Must say, Mickey describes you perfectly. You really are-”  
Mickey covers her mouth and gives her a look, “Mina, my kids right there, Jesus.”  
Ian and Marina both snort a laugh at his embarrassment, Yev furrowing his brow in frustrated confusion. Marina grins and looks to Yev, “You’re daddy just likes to tell me that he thinks Ian here is very pretty.”  
Yev looks to Ian, blinking a bit as he thinks, “He is.” He turns to Marina looking so determined to make her just as sure as he is that Ian is, in fact, very beautiful.  
Marina smiles lovingly at the boy and pecks his cheek, “You’re the prettiest one here, Mijo.”  
Yev blushed bright and hid his face into Ian’s shoulder who’d been looking at Mickey like a love struck puppy since the mention of Mickey talking about him.  
_  
When they took Mickey back to go over how to handle the next steps with Greg, the rest of them- Marina included- step outside; some to smoke, others to just enjoy the early summer weather and play around with Yevgeny.  
Debbie had Yev and Frannie off to the side running about while Ian, Lip, Marina and Mandy stood under the awning lighting up cigarettes and talking.  
Lip turned to light Marina’s smoke when she asked for a lighter, having to leave hers to get through customs. Lip tried to get all smooth as he did so, leaning to light her smoke with his own. Marina deadpanned as it lit and the moment she pulled back to blow the smoke away she spoke up, “Barking up the wrong tree there, Papi. Only man in my life is Mig. I like my men like I like my coffee.”  
“Hot and rich?” Lip grinned, clearly trying to play along with this sassy woman.  
“I don’t like coffee.”  
Mandy snorted, covering her mouth while Marina maintained full on eye contact and pulled on her smoke. Ian couldn’t even hold back the laugh at his brother’s expense. ‘Bout time a woman put him in his place. Lip looked mortified and it only made it better.  
Marina gave his cheek a pat, “Don’t worry, man. Ain’t offended or nothin’. Ya just made it too easy.”  
Lip shook his head with a grin, “Fine. Point for you.” He the sniffed and put his freehand in his pocket, glancing over to Yev and his sister and niece before back to the group. “So, if Mickey gets indicted...what’s the plan?”  
Mandy looks at Ian and Marina’s faces before speaking, “There’s no way they’d really put him back, right? He’s completely redone his entire life. There’s no proof of him being dangerous at all.”  
Ian crossed his arms over his broad chest, “I...If he goes back we gotta fight it. If for whatever reason this goes wrong we have to fight back. He’ll get killed if they trap him with Terry again. Especially now that through his trial it’s going to be next to impossible for people not to know he’s gay. You know as well as I do this has been on the news. He’s an escaped convict after all.”  
Marina looked between them, “We could try and appeal for deportation? He’d never be allowed back here, but at least he could come back to Loreto with me, yes? Be safe.”  
Mandy furrowed her brows, “But then how would he visit Yev? It’s not like Lana’s gonna be able to afford flights.”  
Lip nodded towards the door, “Well, there’s Svetlana now.”  
Svet comes walking to them lighting a cigarette, having stayed back to speak with Greg to hear how to handle Yev for the sentencing. She blows smoke from the corner of her mouth before speaking, “Greg is worried. He thinks we have chance of winning, but is only chance. If things go poorly Yevgeny will be hurt.”  
Marina looks over to Yev at that point then back to the group, “It’s Svetlana, right?” When Lana nodded Marina gave one in return before speaking up again. “We have the option of winning. That is ideal. But, if we somehow lose, we fight. All us here are fighters, no? We argue for parole or even for him to simply leave for Loreto. I know Mig will do anything for your two’s boy. He will even bring you back with him if you were willing. He wants best life for his son.”  
Svet smiled warmly, both happy with her words and her strength, she nodded her affirmative.  
Ian looked like he was struggling and looks to them, “I told him I’d go back with him. Told him I made a mistake. I...fuck, I wanna be with him so bad. Wanna have our fucking family back with Yev, broken or not.” He scrubs at his eyes in frustration. “If they take him from us I….I dunno what to do. I can’t break another promise to him.”  
Mandy steps up and puts a hand on Ian’s shoulder, “Mickey loves you Ian. We’re gonna win. We told them the monster that Terry is. They all saw how Sammi played the system. Hikes might be good but so is Greg. Even Mickey behaved.”  
Lip nodded, “I see no way of us losing. He’s at the most going to get parole. We have to trust the system.”  
___  
Finally, the time had come.  
They all shuffled into the courtroom. Mickey was standing next to Greg, still chained but looking hopeful that he will be able to at least hold his kid tonight.  
Hike looked nervous, as though she had a bad feeling.  
The judge walked in and once she had everyone seated she turned to the jury and motioned for the speaker to rise.  
An older man, holding a packet of papers, stood and spoke clearly, “We the jury, as proud people of the city of Chicago, Illinois find the defendant, Michael Olensky….”  
Everyone was holding their breath. Everything felt as though it was hanging on by threads thousands of feet off the ground. Ian was nearly vibrating out of his skin when he felt Yev put his tiny hand into his own. He looked down, surprised, to see Yev smiling reassuringly up to him. Finally the verdict came.  
“Guilty.”


	26. Repition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes and Ian struggles.

“We find the defendant guilty of all charges, however we request a leniency on his sentencing.” The lead juror sat back down and looked to the judge.

The judge nodded and took a moment to think before speaking out, “I agree with the decision. Mr. Olensky, I sentence you to finishing out the six remaining years of your prison sentence. The last seven leading to the original fifteen will be a strict parole given you show good behavior and reformation. Is there anything you would like to say?”

Mickey looked up to her, swallowing down his thick emotions, “My son. Let me say goodbye to my son, please.”

The judge looked over to Mickey’s family, taking in how Yev was looking towards his father trying to understand why everyone’s upset from his mother’s arms. Mandy was holding onto Ian’s arm trying hard to comfort herself while Ian looked torn between yelling and crying, Lip was glaring to the floor frustrated in their loss and Marina looked ready to fight everyone in the room. She turned to the guards and gave a nod, “I’ll allow it.” With a tap of her gavel she stood, “Case dismissed.”

While everyone was exiting Mickey’s misfit family nearly ran to him. Mandy grabbed him tight, not at all caring that she could be pulled off, she needed her brother. Mickey held her as best he could with his bound hands, putting his chin on her shoulder to try and be close. When she stepped back he reached for his son. Yev wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck trying to help his father balance him in the crook of his elbow. Mickey nuzzled into the side of Yev’s head and kissed his cheek.

“You’ll be okay, right Daddy?” Yev’s big eyes looked at him with so much desperate hope, wanting so badly to just be with him.

Mickey kissed Yev’s forehead, “I’ll be okay, kiddo. I just need you to be tough a little bit longer for me, okay? Can you do that, buddy? Take care of Mom and Aunt Mandy?” When Yev gave a teary, but stubborn nod, he continued looking over to the redhead that meant so much to him, “Take care of Ian for me? Make sure he knows he’s loved, okay?”

Yev looked to Ian who stood there fighting back large amounts of tears, biting a trembling lip. “Yeah, Daddy. I will.” Yev leaned against his shoulder, sucking on his finger while Mick said his goodbyes to the others.

Marina came next. She looked at him sterning, “I’m gonna try and fight for deportation, okay? You’re a Loreto citizen, you gave up citizenship to here. I won’t let you get trapped.” Mickey nodded his thanks letting her kiss his cheek before she stepped back.

Lana came forward and patted his cheek, “You take care of yourself, yes?” He gave another affirming nod and emotionally pressed his lips to Yev’s cheek one last time before Lana stepped back holding him.

Finally, Ian came forward. At first he stood just looking at Mickey and shook his head refusing to believe that he was getting taken from him again. Then he grabbed him tight and began to cry.

Mickey curled into him and spoke with a soft but strained voice, “Hey...Hey, Gallagher, it’s okay, aight? I’m gonna be fine, promise.”

Ian choked back a sob and pulled back, gripping his face and without even thinking just kissed him forcefully. Mickey reached up and grabbed his wrists as well as he could and kissed back just as hard. Fuck what anyone thought. Fuck who saw. He’d loved this man since he was seventeen years old and he’d be damned if he’d ever pull away from him again. Ian was his heart. He needed him just as badly as Ian seemed to need him right now. 

They stood their emotionally working their mouths together in their last, desperate way of saying goodbye when a guards large hand pulled Mickey away by the shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

Mickey pulled back from the yank and stayed staring at Ian, right in the eye, as they switched his cuffs to being behind his back, keeping his ankles chained as well. Mickey stayed staring until he was shoved to look forward and walk faster. Ian finally broke when the heavy wooden door slammed behind him.  
______

Ian was numb.

He failed Mickey again. He didn’t help, if anything he made it worse. He had, yet again, made Mickey’s life hell through his bipolar. Had Hikes not used that against them his statement could have freed him but, instead, Ian was nothing more than sick. Again.

Mick had already been gone for a week. Yev had slowly started to get back to school, going half days as his body still healed. Mandy and Svet went back to working full time and Marina had to fly back home. Ian was trying. He’d been going to work, taking his meds, visiting Mick whenever he could. Whenever it wouldn’t take time from Yev to see his father.

He was sitting in the back of the ambulance in the loading bay. He was forcing food down into his stomach despite how his depression made him want to do nothing but puke it right back up. Sue was sitting nearby, keeping him quiet company. She knew Ian needed the quiet, that he didn’t have the energy for conversation or the ability to do much more than follow his routine. She was just about to open her mouth when a call came over the speakers.

Through the fuzz they both heard, “There has been a breakout at the Metropolitan Correctional Center. There is one in critical condition in need of immediate assistance.”

“That’s us.” Sue grinned, grabbing her bag as she jumped into the front seat. 

Ian took his position in the back slamming the doors and riding through Sue’s driving. He focused on the sirens. He had to obsess over something. The way they sounded like distant banshee wails as he slowly fell underwater. Drowning like he had when they had gone to Yev. He couldn’t place why he was beginning to fall into a panic, but he knew it was happening.

He tied his breathing with the sirens. Slowly pulling air into his lungs on the first round then breathing out through his nose of the second. He repeated this. That is, until they pulled up outside the prison he had been visiting all week. Suddenly, he knew.

And he stopped breathing all together.


	27. Emergency at MCC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Mickey on the week he arrived back in prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic violence

Mickey was sitting anxiously in his cell. He’d been keeping his head down, staying quiet and only spoke when he was asked a question or he was visiting his family. He looked forward to seeing them every day. Yev had nearly his entire head of hair back and was growing like a weed. He was excited about books he was reading and new songs he’d learned. He loved seeing his son so happy and excited about learning, about life.

Ian visited a lot, too. As much as he could between work and making sure Yev could see Mickey on days where visits were limited. He told him how Marina was still working with Greg on fighting for deportation. It wasn’t ideal but he knew, as he sat here bouncing his leg, hiding from his father isn’t something he’s going to manage for six years. He’d only been here a week and already Terry had managed to get too close for comfort about three times. The first two he’d been lucky enough to weave his way into a crowd, putting at least one other person between them. He’d heard his father’s angered snort, the accusations of his weakness. The third he’d nearly adhered himself to a guard and earned himself a sharp hit to the head for it until Terry was noticed.

Now, he was hiding away in his cell until they were all forced to go to the yard. He couldn’t bring himself to chance being cornered, so like some bitch, he was hiding like a frightened dog in his box until he could stay near large groups, preferably near a guard.

When the buzzer went off, his heart nearly stopped. He was jumpy. In the past he would have hated himself for this fear, told himself to stop being a girl and just fight through it. He could take a lot anyways. But, things were different now. He had people he cared about, people he had to stay strong for. He had Ian who deserved to have him strong and healthy, who didn’t need to take care of him or have to wait forever for him to be free. He had Marina, his best friend, that deserved to have him come home to her in one, solid piece. Then, of course, he had Yevgeny. His beautiful son who’d already been through far too much for someone as young as he was. He deserved his father to be healthy, strong and capable of being that hero he believed he was until he was able to be his own hero. He had reasons to survive now. So, when the fear sank in it made it hard for him to feel shame.

He shuffled into the crowd and walked briskly to the yard. He tried to stay around the doorway, stay in an open space, in the view of the guards on duty. But, something was off. The guards seemed too focused. Too attentive to his location. Normally, they might glance to him, see that he was doing nothing but standing near them, before turning towards the larger crowds. Now though, they all seemed to have their eyes on him. Not even noticing the gang over in the back corner doing a pretty obvious deal.

He connected eyes with one guard and held it. He expected for him to just look away, or to snap at him for staring. But, all he did was hold the look before a small smirk slid its way across his face like a snake.

A large, burly man with a couple tattoos on his bald head neck and by his eye came up to him, pulling him from the stand off with the guard. “You the Milkovich kid?”

Mickey frowned, pulling his brows down sharply, “Names Olensky.”

The man didn’t budge, didn’t walk away, “The fucker that ditched here before?”

Mickey crossed his arms, gripping his tight muscles and getting a readied stance by sliding a foot to the side. “Who’s asking?”

The guy leaned in, got right in his space to breath hot in his ear. It was taking so much strength not to come unglued and haul off and punch the guy right in his ugly mug. His breath was rancid when he growled, “Terry wanted to play a game.”

Before Mickey could react, could even move away, he was slammed against the brick wall behind him by a hard shoulder to his chest. He felt his head bounce off the rough stone and while he was still disoriented he was unable to bolt before the yard was in a circle, ready for the fight.

Panicked he looked to the guards and his heart sank. They were purposefully standing with their backs to the group. They were clearly aware of what was happening. He felt his heart hammering into his ribcage but, the sound of a voice stopped it.

“You didn’t really think you could stay away from me, did you faggot?” His father snarled as he walked through the center of the crowd towards him. There was no getting away this time. All Mickey could do was stand his and try to brace for impact. “Got lots of friends in here too, bitch. Funny how easy guards can be the moment you offer up some gifts...or threats.”

Mickey squared his shoulders. He knew this game. His options were limited. His father would only get harsher if he did nothing. He’d truly kill him if he showed fear, showed weakness. But, the look on his father’s face told him he was going to kill him either way. With the guards not looking and the crowd surrounding them, he had little hope of getting away. If he was going to go out. He’d go down swinging.

Like fuck he wouldn’t fight for his family, make them proud.

When Terry barreled forward, charging like the bull he was, Mickey ducked low. He used his lack of height and sturdy frame to his advantage and leaned into the charge, blocking his father's legs at the knees. Terry went down hard behind him and Mickey instantly moved back towards the wall, pressing against it. He couldn’t have a single person at his back, couldn’t risk it.

Terry growled as he got off the ground, his age and life of hard living giving Mickey slight advantage. But, it wasn’t enough with the entire crowd being against him. High school TV chants of “fight” started to echo around them and this time, when Terry came at him, Mickey bounced to the side and gave a quick, hard jab to his father’s kidney. Terry only ever gave him one thing and that was his skill in fighting.

Terry nearly roared in rage as the sharp pain shot through him and right as he spun someone grabbing Mickey from behind and pinned him in a headlock. The smell of weeks of prison food and drugs smoked through foil told Mick who it was. He fought against the grip. He was struggling hard, but the bald bastard was a fucking tank and had him pinned with his arms under his pits and hands shoved against the back of his neck painfully.  
With the way he was pinned and kicking he didn’t notice the tiny, mousy boy that broke from the crowd run inside.

Terry smirked now. Despite his pain he came forward like a predator to his prey. “Really tried there, kid.” He swung a meaty fist and decked Mickey straight in the face.

Pain blossomed in Mickey’s jaw and cheekbone as his head snapped to the side. His lip caught on his teeth sending a burst of iron into his mouth. Despite this, he turned a hellish glare back to his father and with a quick swirl of his tongue, spat blood and saliva right onto his dad’s cheek. In some sort of sick satisfaction, he couldn’t help smiling when his dad turned red.

Then the shot to his gut came. The hit was hard enough even Stank behind him had to step back. He felt something crunch and knew his at least one of his floating ribs shattered. He bent in half around Terry’s hammer of a fist and coughed out blood and vomit once he pulled it away.

Stank dropped him then. He hit the ground like a sack of wheat. Before he could even get up he felt another hammered blow to his gut and he nearly passed out as the white hot pain shot through his entire body. He couldn't even scream. He barely felt like he was able to breathe, the sound of wheezing hinting to damage his body wasn’t letting him feel. The world was spinning as he became a human soccer ball. His vision kept going. Hot flashes of red and black screening them. White blaring over anything he could possibly see as the spinning grew faster. The yelling around them seemed to change, but he could only hear the volume.

When he felt the boot stomp down on his face, efficiently shutting off his light, all he could do was apologize.

He’d failed.  
______

Ian ran into the prison pushing the stretcher with Sue. He was praying to a god he didn’t believe in that he was going to see someone he didn’t know. That he was picking up some gang banger that had a deal go wrong. But, that sharp twist to his stomach, the bile instinctively rising and knotting with the tears in his throat, told him he’d never had luck.

When they reached the infirmary he felt his world stop.

Laying on dark red sheets, soaked with blood, was a nearly unrecognizable Mickey. They had oxygen on him already and were monitoring him closely, but it was clear he needing ICU. One side of his face looked nearly caved in by the way it’d been crushed. His eye swollen closed completely, the other just as bruised and bloody. They had his uniform opened, showing horrific bruising all over his abdomen. The grotesque warping told Ian at least half his rib cage was destroyed.

Sue snapping at him got him moving, “Gallagher! Fucking work! We’re losing him!”

He moved in flashes. It felt like he was completely on autopilot and he was coming in and out of awareness. He saw everything coming to him like stills.

Mickey on the stretcher.

Running in the hall.

Mickey in the truck.

He stroked his broken face.

Hospital bay.

Another hallway.

Doctors.

Sue in his face.

Tears.

Sue’s voice finally came through, “Ian! Ian! C’mon man, talk to me!” Ian blinked and looked at her as she came into focus. “Fuck….there you are.” She moved her death grip on his arms to a gentle cradling of his face. “You had a panic attack. I called the station. We’re staying here, okay? I’m staying with you ‘till I know you’re good. Called your brother too. He said he had to make calls and was on his way.”

Ian slowly nodded. He could hardly even think about Lip. Couldn’t register the haze of post panic. All he could think, “Mickey…”

Sue nodded with a sad smile, “In surgery. We got him here in good timing. The doctors said we did great. You did great. Gave him CPR on the way here. Got his breathing back to stable. You found a bleed in his lungs. Gave him a damn fighting chance.”

Ian gave another weak nod. The next thing his hazed awareness gathered was a pattering of quick steps and a tiny voice calling his name. His head jerked up and he immediately got to his knees as a panicked Yevgeny came sprinting toward him. He catapulted himself into Ian’s arms and clung to him as he wailed his fear. Ian couldn’t hold him tight enough. Neither of them able to lose the man they both loved more than anything else.

Lana came running up, looking beyond relieved to see Yev had found Ian. Mandy followed her close behind with Lip. Ian heard them asking Sue what they knew. If they had any news yet to what had happened.

Ian stroked Yev’s hair. Fuck he wanted to tell this boy it was okay. But it wasn’t. There was nothing okay with this. Both of them were crying as they held each other.

Still in a haze Ian only seemed to wake up again when they were all sitting around a low table in the waiting room. Mandy was biting her nails. Sue and Lip were on their phones. Sue getting things taken care of at work, Lip talking to Greg. Svet tried to take Yev only for the child to latch to Ian more firmly, adamant that he stay with his dad’s person. Ian assured her it was alright.

Two officers then approached them. Removing their hats, they asked, “Are you the family of Michael Olensky, prisoner forty-two twelve?” At their confirmation the one speaking took a folder from the other and handed it to Mandy who was central to the group. “That folder will have further details, however we have found out that this was a planned attack by Terrence Milkovich, prisoner ninety-two thirteen. He had the yard in on it and ganged up on Olensky. Milkovich paid off the on duty guards. Threatened to send people after their families. Those guards are on unpaid leave as we investigate. Milkovich has been moved to higher security. We awarded the inmate that reported the attack with a lessened sentence. We ask that you keep in touch so we may know the state of Mr. Olensky. We are currently working with the courts to decide what to do with his sentencing.”

They all sat in stunned silence. Mandy nodding as she stared owlishly at them and gripped the folder tighter. The first to find their voice was Yevgeny.

“Can my daddy just come home?” His little voice wavered, but had a stubbornness to it that was just so familiar. He glared up to the officers with a trembling lip, “You didn’t protect him. He wasn’t safe.”

The speaking officer turned and got to one knee to be level with Yev on Ian’s lap, “That’s were fighting for, son. We’ve already called his lawyer. We’re working with him to get your daddy out. We disagreed with the sentencing to begin with once we saw the court’s transcript.” He stood up again and looked to the whole group. “We’re very sorry that this has happened. 

Yev sniffed and looked up to Ian as the officers left, “Is Daddy gonna be okay?”

Ian looked at his boy’s mini-me, a thick knot in his throat painfully reminding him of how bad this all was. Flashes of Mickey broken and bloody coming to him. He pressed his lips to Yev’s head and squeezed his eyes shut to stave off the tears. Once he felt his voice he said all that he could, “I hope so, buddy. I really hope so.”


	28. Never Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wait impatiently in the hospital for the news. Ian discovers nust how much he needs Mickey.

Ian was the only one awake when the doctor finally emerged. Sue had gone home. Lip was snoring softly in his chair, Svet and Mandy curled up in their perches on the sad excuse of a couch, Ian’s arm was numb where Yev had collapsed against his chest and refused to move- not that he even wanted him to.

He was staring out into space, absently playing with the wisps of Yev’s still thin hair when shoes and the end of a white lab coat had his brain slowly coming to and his eyes snapping upward.

The doctor looked over the family with that bittersweet understanding that only an ICU care taker could muster. “You all must be exhausted. I hope the news I have can help ease you.”

Ian blinked, his brain lagging for a moment as he tried to understand what was being told to him. The he was rousing his family. With perturbed groans, grunts and bewildered blinking and rubbed eyes everyone but the snoozing child was awake and looking to the doctor.

“Is Mickey alive?” Mandy’s hoarse, tear broken voice came through.

The doctor smiled kindly, “He is. You all have a fighter in that one. He’s pretty swollen and beaten up, few broken ribs and a shattered leg but he seemed to have been able to protect his head and throat, which is good. There was some organ punctures from how the ribs had been kicked in and his cheekbone was broken so his face looks far worse than it actually is. We were able to remove the broken fragments and reset his bones, but,” he turned to Ian, “and I’m sure you know this, there isn’t casting for ribs so he’ll be sore and immobile for a while. But, even though we’re keeping him here to be monitored, he’s awake and coherent. We’d ask though, since the room’s small, that you only go in a couple at a time and the child is accompanied.”

Everyone seemed to visibly sag with relief knowing that Mickey was even breathing. Ian gripped Yevgeny just a little bit tighter, more firmly pressing him to his chest. He found so much comfort in his tiny, warm body and the way he nuzzled into his chest to find a comfortable spot.

Svet looked between Ian and Mandy before speaking as the doctor waited, “You two go back. Take Yevgeny, yes? You are his three. He’ll need you and Yev will need his father.”  
Ian and Mandy nodded as they stood, Ian careful not to jostle Yev too much, hoping to get an idea of how badly the sight of Mickey’s beaten face might upset the kid.

He felt like he was floating as he followed the doctor down the hall. He could hardly even sense Mandy next to him. Yevgeny in his arms was the only central focus he seemed able to find. 

The doctor stopped and motioned to a curtain covered doorway. “Right in here. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Ian followed Mandy into the room, cradling Yev still and there he was. The second Ian’s eyes landed on Mickey it felt like all the air came flooding back into his body. Like his soul returned and the color washed over his view again. He was alive. He was breathing and looking at him with those blue eyes, still so beautiful even with them that swollen.

His split lips pull into a smile and in a weak raspy voice he croaks, “Hey.”

Mandy moved to her brothers side, fighting tears, staying strong like the Milkovich she was, but she kissed his forehead in a way only these two seemed gentle enough to do. A quality that must have come from their mother. “Don’t you ever scare me like this again, asshole. Fuck, Mickey, I really freaked out.”

Mickey took her hand in his despite the bandaging and tubes, “Sorry Mands.”

She sniffed and nodded, forcing a smile before sanding to the side to let Ian come over.

Ian moved sluggishly. His feet felt heavy and ledden. But, the second he leaned over and pressed his lips to chapped and stitched ones all of his fears rushed away like water in a drain. He pulled back with that slight popping sound and looks at him. The stare the were sharing held so much. They were still able to talk with a look.

Ian dipped his head and whispered sweetly in Yevgeny’s ear, cooing him awake. The kid woke and rubbed his eye as he looked around blearily.

When Mickey’s thick voice said, “He Little Man.” Yev’s head nearly pulled an exorcist with how fast he looked over his shoulder to his dad. Ian moved the progressingly squirming kid to a better position and set him on Mickey’s bed with a gentle warning to be careful.

Yev looked wide eyed at his father. He seemed to be in shock. Mickey stared right on back, a gentle smile tugging his lips. He reached up a battered hand and pushed a bit of hair back on Yevgeny’s head before cradling his cheek. That seemed to snap the kid into the now and he lurched forward, wrapping his little arms around his dad’s neck as he started to whimper. Mickey just wrapped his arms around him, hands looking huge on his son’s tiny frame.

“Hey...Hey, Yevvy. It’s okay. It’s okay, champ. I’m good. You’re good. We’re all good.” MIckey spoke soft and quiet to his weeping boy.  
Yev pulled back and sniffed, wiping a snotty nose with the back of his hand. He nodded. That same stubborn, ‘I’m gonna be strong’ nod that he’d had through all of his chemo, the courtroom and this entire week and hospital trip. “Th-thought they hurt you, Daddy. Found you’re quipt-no-night” He puffed his little lip out. He had been afraid. Thinking his own personal superman had been defeated.

Mickey cupped his face again and smiled so sweetly, “Naw man. Gonna take a lot more than kryptonite to take your old man away from ya, okay? I’m always gonna come home to you kiddo. Never gonna leave you alone again.”

Yev nodded again and sniffed once more before wrinkling his little nose up sourly, “You’re face looks like an old peach, Daddy.” 

That pulled a happy laugh from Mickey, the crinkles by his eye’s showing through the swelling, his spare hand holding his ribs as the other lovingly patted Yev’s face, “Guess that mean’s you’re better lookin’ than me, huh.” Yev grins and nods before leaning down and dramatically kissing his cheek.

“You need sleep, Daddy. That’s how you get better, you know.” He said with sagely wisdom before turning to the other adults and putting his arms up sleepily. “I’m sleepy.”

Before Ian could reach out Mandy stepped forward and scooped up her nephew. “I’ll take him. You guys need a minute.” She leaned over with Mick for her and little Yev to kiss his face before walking out.

“Night Buddy!” Mick called after them before looking up to Ian.

Ian swallowed thickly. “Fuck….fuck, mick you scared me so bad. We got the call for the prison and-”

Mickey cut him off with a frown, “Wait...you’re the EMT that got me? Shit….Fuck Ian, I’m so sorry.”

Ian put a large, freckled hand on Mickey’s face, “Shhh, none of that. None of this is on you, Mick. Just...just scared me. Thought I was gonna fail...fail you again”

Mickey covered Ian’s hand with his own and leaned into his warm palm. “I love you…”

Ian couldn’t help the wetness that came to his eyes. He leaned over and kissed him. Letting their eyes fall closed they kept their lips pressed together as Ian sat at his side and leaned on his free hand to comfortably stay over him.

He’d thought he was gonna lose him. For good this time. He couldn’t even begin to say the relief that flooded through his veins right now as he was with Mickey again. Hearing his voice, feeling his skin, seeing that smile, smelling that smell that’s just him; sensing Mickey in every way.

Mickey whispered against his lips, “Lay with me? Stay? Don’t….don’t wanna be alone..”

Ian smiled, stroking his cheek, and smiled. He moved to lay next to him and held him close, careful of his ribs and kissed his head in the lingering way Mickey once had when he almost died because of his own mind. 

Holding him now everything seemed to hit all at once. He was even more in love with this man now than he had been at fifteen, something he hardly thought possible. Mickey was everything he needed. More than he wanted. He was perfect to him.

He knew he’d never leave him again. He’d found his home. He’d finally found that place he’d wanted since childhood. The place where he was never forgotten or just seen as another kid to care for. He;d found Mickey and he was never letting go.


	29. Recall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets a special visit

Ian woke up with his hand numb where he’d cut off its circulation by drooling on his arm. His other hand was wrapped tightly around Mickey’s gently bandaged one and he couldn’t help but to press his lips to his fingers and he sat up wiping the spit from his mouth. He cracked his neck and gave his back a quick stretch without letting go of Mickey at any point. His man laying there in that bed, though bruised and swollen, was beautiful. His lashes resting against high cheekbones even past the swell of his eye and the blackened cheek and the relaxed state of his brows had him looking so at peace and somehow young, almost innocent. His full lips were parted as he took small even breathes and it took Ian most of his self restraint to be able to stay sitting back and not lean over to press his own lips to Mickey’s.

He couldn’t look away. The longer he looked, however, the more his emotions started to well up. He started to see Mickey on a metal slap instead of a white bed, his injuries worsened had that young, barely past teen aged, inmate hadn’t run off and gotten the guards Terry hadn’t manipulated he’d be dead. They wouldn’t be sitting here making plans to help him around with his broken ribs and leg. 

They’d be planning a funeral.

“Fuck.” Ian had to let him go now. He put his face in his hands, leaning over his knees as he tried to lower his heart rate, get his breathing under control. The thoughts of Mickey not waking up, of him having lost him in the ambulance, had his brain spinning. The flashes wouldn’t stop and he could feel his heart pounding against his sternum, choking him and starting to move like and elevated water pump to his temples and ears. Everything was too hot. Too crowded. 

His breathing was too fast. He knew it was, but it wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t get the room to quit spinning, quit shrinking. It was just starting to tilt on him when something fell heavily on his arm. When it started to gently grip him, pull him out of his curl, everything went quiet.

He looked up to where Mickey had dragged his body up so he was sitting, his hand on Ian’s arm. Worried blue eyes stared at him as he looked back in shock. His face nearly as red as his hair, eyes burning to remind him why his cheeks were wet.

“Hey...Hey it’s okay, Ian. Calm down. It’s okay. I’m here.’ Mick grunted as he forced himself closer to him, determined to pull Ian into his arms until he felt normal again.

Ian moved quickly. Gently pushing Mickey back against the bed despite his stubborn protests. “D-don’t. You can’t move too much, Mick. You’re ribs.” He leaned in close enough to kiss his forehead. “ ‘m okay. Just….just got overwhelmed y’know?”

Mickey put a hand on his face and pulled one of Ian’s to his chest with the other. Ian couldn’t help but feel his throat constrict at the steady beating under his palm. He gave out a wet laugh in a quick release of air before looking up to Mickey who was smiling gently towards him. Clearly he knew, like always, what Ian was needing.

Everything would be okay.  
___

Hours later Mickey woke up again. Ian walking into his room with a cup of coffee that he’d run to get. He had refused to leave his bedside for any reason so far. It was heartwarming and new, having someone want to be there so badly.

“Hey…” He couldn’t help but smile at this stupid ginger he hadn’t once been able to forget. The feeling only intensified when Ian leaned over him and gave him a gentle, sweet kiss. He felt so normal kissing Ian now. It felt like home.

“Hey..how’re you feeling?” Ian pulled back slowly, his free hand lightly landing on his hip.

“Sore...But I’m okay.” He slid his hand over Ian’s as he just smiled up to him. He couldn’t stop but feeling warm and safe. It was as if all those fears he had in his teenage years had just completely left him behind. All he could think about at this moment was this man and how beautiful he was. “I love you..”

Ian’s eyes went wide before the shock melted to wet eyes and a sloppy smile, “I love you too, Mickey.”  
The words had just flowed out and just for the first time, he didn’t regret it.

He was about to say more when there was a knock to the doorway. They both turned to see a police officer standing there with his hat in his hand. By his side Greg, Hikes and even the judge stood. Mickey felt his brows curl in confusion. Ian stood in front of him protectively.

“Is it alright if we come in? We have good news.” The officer smiled kindly.

With a nod from Ian the three walked in. Ian moved and gripped Mickey’s hand tight. Mickey twined their fingers together.

The judge was the one to speak when they all entered. “ Mr. Olensky, on behalf of myself and the court system of Chicago, I’d like to tell you that we are recalling our initial sentence. We are putting you under as time served. Unfortunately, we have to keep the felony charges on your record, however, we would like to set you free officially. Not only that, but I’d like to inform you that I have personally been given the honor of sentencing you father to life in prison, along with at least three months in solitude. He is being moved to maximum security as we speak. He will never see the light of day again.”

It felt as those MIckey wasn’t breathing any longer. His grip on Ian’s hand so tight he could swear his own one begin to bleed soon. With a nod the judge and officer turned to leave. Greg Lappin gave him a congrats, get well soon and a wink as he walked out. 

That left Hikes.

She stepped forward and dipped her head. “Mr. Olensky. My name is Talia. I’d like to, outside of my professional demeanor, humble myself and be just a woman. A woman who put her career ahead of what was truly just.” She looked up to them, “I’m known for pulling out things that many consider playing dirty. I would like you both to know, that during this whole thing, I never once thought either of you were bad people. I’d like to apologize for your issues this has caused. To show that...I’d like to let you know that your medical bills are handled.” She lifted a hand when Ian frowned and Mickey started to snap that he wasn’t charity. “It’s the least I can do.” 

She turned all her attention to Mickey. “Take care of that little boy of yours. We could all be so lucky to have a father like you.” With a nod to them both she turned to leave.

They stood there in stunned silence for a long moment before Mickey broke the frozen shock. “I’m free….I’m...no prison...Terry...Terry’s gone...He’s...I..”

Ian turned and grabbed Mickey’s face and kissed him hard, not even caring when their noses knocked in his desperation. Through tears and horrible kissing, they began to laugh. They were crying and giggle like little girls as everything sunk in. This was their reality. This was real life.

Laughing was all they could do.


	30. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of my first fic. I hope you all love it. Thank you so much for all of those who've stuck with this story and let me share my ideas.

Mickey wheeled himself out onto the sidewalk and stopped. He took a moment to close his eyes and tilt his head back to soak in the sunlight. The warmth on his skin felt like a warm hand enveloping his face. He couldn’t help but smile. He was finally released from the hospital. Though he was confined to a wheelchair or crutches until his broken bones healed he felt like he could go anywhere.

A plop of weight on his thighs had his head and eyes snapping forward to be met by Yevgeny’s. The boy was grinning so bright and happy Mickey wondered if his mouth might split his face into two. He ruffled the still down like hair on his son’s head causing the boy to laugh. The way it stuck out in every direction had him looking younger and almost like a pom pom for arts and crafts.

“You get to come home today, Daddy! Carrot Dad is letting me sleep over at his place so we can have a sleepover!” He grinned, somehow, even wider. His blue eyes sparkled as though he were telling his dad that Ian had given him the moon.

Mickey hugged him with one arm, “Oh yeah?” He looked up to Ian who smiled sheepishly down to him. The idiot clearly thinking he hadn’t done enough. A lift of his eyebrow had Ian laughing nervously and rubbing at his neck.

“I-uh- I got some movies and set up the old gamecube. Thought we’d order pizza and just hang out? Let you relax and stuff.” He bit his lip from the inside. That nervous thinning of his lips showing strong.

“Sounds perfect.” Mickey grinned and adjusted Yevgeny in his lap, having him wrap his little arms around his neck. When he saw Ian deflate in relief he pushed off and began to wheel himself towards Svet and Mandy standing outside of Mandy’s car.  
____

Ian wanted to dote on Mickey and he could tell. He was grateful, though, that he let him struggle for a moment before doing things for him. He knew being crippled as he healed would take some getting used to and, without a doubt, would piss him off more often than not. But, as he locked his chair and tried to figure out how to get on the couch he shocked himself by asking Ian to help. When Ian wrapped his strong arms and lifted him into the couch and slid the coffee table with a pillow under his leg, he knew he wouldn’t give up this goofy redhead for anything. Being manhandled like that would have earned Ian a fist to the face back in their teen years but now, despite the shock that ran through his body, Mickey realized he just felt...safe.

He grinned up to him and grabbed his shirt in a tight fist, yanking him down into a deep kiss, stealing Ian’s breath. Ian put one hand on his face and the other on the back of the couch for balance as he kissed back deep and hard. Parting his lips, Mickey slid his hand from his shirt to his neck and jaw. He’d missed kissing him for so long and was determined to never let an opportunity pass him by again.

He was completely lost in how Ian’s slightly chapped lips were working against his own that it took the bounce of the couch to remind him that Yevgeny was very much right there. They pulled back with a soft smack and broad grins before going about serving up pizza, MIckey turning to his kid and getting pulled into a dramatic tale of Ian reading a book to him that helped him sleep at night. With wild enthusiasm he informed his father how Ian would “even do the voices!!!” 

He chuckled and looked to Ian who was smiling at Yev with so much love on his face it was as though he were his own son. In some ways Mickey supposed he was. After all, Ian had been the first to fall for the tiny little baby. Changing his diapers, dressing him for the winter in Liam’s old clothes and carrying him about before Mickey had even been able to come out of the shock of even having a child, let alone how he’d gotten here.

Now, listening to his boy ramble about how wonderful his boyfriend...partner...his Ian, was had him feeling mushy and weak kneed. He couldn’t help but take in the joy of the feeling around him.

He had a lot ahead of him. Trials, both physical and mental, were bound to set him back here and there. Ian had convinced him to at least try therapy to get through what his father had done to him. The idea that it could potentially improve his ability to father Yevgeny had been expertly planted into his head by the ginger and quickly grew roots. Now it seemed as though it were his own idea.

His body was broken, sore, but still where, after a few months, and with some physical therapy he would be back to himself again. He’d be running, laughing and tossing his son about. He’d be hot and filthy in the sheets with Ian again. He’d be able to work again. Be able to pull his weight, help his family, help Ian. He’d be himself again.

Now, sitting here eating greasy food and watching Yevgeny scold Ian with the same spit-fire attitude of his mother, it hit him. They were a family. They were happy and safe. Terry would never be able to touch any of them ever again. He’s rot and die in a prison cell. He had his son, his sister, his best friend and he even had Ian. Despite the fact that he couldn’t move his body like he wanted to he was free. For the first time in his life he was truly, undoubtedly, free. He could only laugh inwardly at how it took his son getting ill, something horrible to happen, for his life to take a turn for the better. For him to find his freedom.

But, he guesses, that’s South Side luck after all.


End file.
